


We dive into that sky

by limitlessrose (shinealightrose)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Allusion to sex trafficking and slavery, Alternate Universe - Future, Conquered worlds, M/M, Nobility, Read notes for more warnings, Sex Work, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightrose/pseuds/limitlessrose
Summary: Taeil is royalty, Jungwoo’s career is ignoble, half the universe is at war with the other, but in this part of the galaxy it’s the winners who call the shots.





	We dive into that sky

**Author's Note:**

> !! PLEASE READ EVERYTHING !!
> 
> So this has been a major project of mine for, quite a while. If the plot sounds familiar it's because I rewrote this from a fic I wrote in another fandom. I was never quite satisfied with some of the plot holes there and I didn't feel like editing the old fic. 
> 
> This newer version has been almost entirely rewritten: everything from the tense (past to present), tons of dialogue, and characterizations (because the main characters in the original fic are Not like the ones I decided to write here). There are twice as many characters. I literally retyped the entire thing, there is no copy-paste, and added TWO brand new scenes, editing many older scenes to create a richer world. It is a whole 10k longer. All this is to say, I feel like this is a brand new fic and I am very proud of it. I hope you will enjoy it. 
> 
> Let's get down to business: 
> 
> WARNINGS !!
> 
> There are only a couple sex scenes using mostly non-explicit language, as this is almost entirely plot- and character-driven. But the warnings in my tags remain as well as a few others listed here. 
> 
> \- Sex work including voluntary prostitution (and others who may not have been voluntary)  
\- Allusion to slavery, in many forms  
\- Discrimination against conquered peoples, and other races (not really explicit just present)  
\- One, fairly uncomfortable scene involving a photographer using his power to harass his model (Jungwoo)  
\- Futuristic drug addiction, pretty mild though  
\- Brief non-romantic but sexual Jungwoo/Johnny  
\- Brief non-romantic Jungwoo/Joy  
\- Yuta and Taeyong are quite annoying, Kun can be downright mean (I'm sorry, I love all you guys but somebody had to do it)
> 
> **If I missed something you believe should be warned for, please let me know in the comments or send a DM. 
> 
> Title from this lovely song, and a huge apology to his character when it does pop up in the fic this time around. 
> 
> This city night looks like you  
Brilliant but a little lonely  
Your knotted heart  
I’ve followed it down these strange streets  
Tell me how you want it  
Tell me how you need it  
There’s time enough  
We dive into that sky  
Melt into the night... 
> 
> \- Baekhyun, "Stay Up"

Taeil’s back hits the bed, a muted huff echoing out of his mouth before another closes in on his, searching and hungry, hands busy pulling at his clothes. A low moan rips from his lungs when Jungwoo suddenly pulls away. 

_ Mistake? _ he wonders. But then Jungwoo is grinning at him, stripping out of his shirt before lowering back down to tug at Taeil’s shirt too. One of his sleeves gets stuck around his shoulder. His belt refuses to unfasten easily. One sock stays on persistently even as Taeil fusses to get it off, over and against the body fighting above him. He flicks it away finally, growls and throws Jungwoo over on the bed. 

They lay motionless for a moment, two moments. Jungwoo’s eyes are on fire, eating up all of Taeil’s resolve not to do this, not to go this far. This wasn’t in the contract, wasn’t in any of Taeil’s plans for the evening. But it’s been so many years and their reunion earlier tonight wasn’t what he thought it would be. Jungwoo doesn’t put him off, doesn’t ignore him. They don’t talk about it being the end, and the alcohol… Taeil shouldn’t have had so much alcohol. Enough to make him think this might only be a fantasy. He took too many spins and is imagining Jungwoo beneath him.

But then Jungwoo smirks, and his hand glides between Taeil’s legs, and no… this isn’t a fantasy. This is real. This is actually happening. Taeil keens at the velvety touch of Jungwoo’s fingers around his length. His body turns rigid, then melts into goo. He falls on top of Jungwoo who easily shoves him over again, until it’s Taeil back on his back and Jungwoo’s lips around his throat, down his chest, gliding over a nipple for far too short a time, lower and lower, just where Taeil wants him to be. 

His mind turns hazy. His brain shuts off. But his mouth, his stupid, stupid mouth falls open, and those fateful words…

“Jungwoo… Gods, Jungwoo… I think… I think… I’m in love with you…”

All at once it falls apart. 

Jungwoo stills. His body freeze, arms pushing him up. There’s shock on his face, and something else… something else maybe Taeil doesn’t want to see.

“What… did you say?”

  
  
  


The first name Taeil hears the name ‘Jungwoo’ he is eight years old. Eight years old, with his hair slicked artificially back off of his forehead, stuffed into a little military uniform two sizes too big. It’s more for prestige than for any kind of practicality and once belonged to his older brother. Taeil feels like a toy doll, and to his parents, he practically is. Halfway across the galaxy, a war rages on, but Taeil’s family is royalty. They can afford to pretend it doesn’t affect them. 

Taeil trots after his brothers. They’re all taller than him, more handsome, chicer. Their uniforms are actually tailored to their bodies, making them look less like toy soldiers, more like the officers they really are. The royal red and silver crescent emblems of their clan draw the eye of everyone at the gala. 

The first time Taeil _ sees _ Jungwoo, he is eight years old, painfully bored and just wants to go home. The lights of the auditorium dim until they glitter like stars over their heads. Halfway across the galaxy, a war rages on, but inside the Silver Globe Theater, the finest of the Federation families display themselves and their wealth for the play of the century. 

Taeil fidgets with his necktie, uninterested in the stage and more concerned with what they will eat afterward for dinner. Delicacies hopefully from the Crescent Solar System, sweet confectioneries that wet the taste buds and rot the teeth. He has no interest in plays or musicals, those relics from a long distant past but revived year after year for the benefit of those who can pay. 

The first time Taeil _ hears _ Jungwoo, his little body freezes in shock. It’s a thin, delicate voice that somehow carries across the stage. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so mesmerizing if the body that emitted it hadn’t been that of a child, a boy with beautiful features and silver hair. Jungwoo can not be more than but a year older than Taeil. 

And somehow, it has Taeil sitting up a little straighter for the rest of the performance. He stops messing with his uniform, he quits tugging on his hair. His closest brother no longer has to nudge him to keep from drumming his boots against the chair in front of him. 

During intermission he manages to snag a program through which he anxiously flips to find the cast and character list. There, there he is. Jungwoo, no family name. Nine years old from the Crystal Galaxy, the war-torn galaxy. 

“Probably a tribute slave,” says Taeil’s oldest brother, looking over his shoulder while Taeil stares a little too long at the tiny caption beneath Jungwoo’s picture. 

“What?”

“Children captured in war? They’re sent here for their own good. Sometimes they turn out well.” 

The way he says it makes something in Taeil’s insides bristle with anger. _ Sometimes _ they turn out well, as if a child actor in a starring role in a critically acclaimed play is good, but not good enough. 

“Oh.”

He knows better than to make a retort. Instead, he pegs his energy into the rest of the performance, perking up whenever Jungwoo is onstage, growing bored when he is not. Taeil might be a prince, but Jungwoo is a year older than him and in some small way, living and enjoying life more than Taeil has ever imagined. There, under the glitter and stars and the lights of the stage, singing his nine-year-old heart out with such youthful passion, Jungwoo seems to have everything Taeil doesn’t. 

Such is fantasy of course, he knows this. But in the dim auditorium with nothing but fancy, Taeil can dream. 

And dream he does, for many a night thereafter. Forgotten is the plot of the play, lost to memory those after-dinner delicacies he’d so looked forward to. For many a year, the only thing Taeil remembers is a boy named Jungwoo, forever nine years old and beautiful, a tribute slave from the Crystal Galaxy. 

  
  


“Taeil, are you awake?”

Taeil’s body jerks from the rude awakening. 

“What? Imawake,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes slowly as the shuttle cabin comes into focus around him. 

He’d been drifting off near the end of their flight, head hanging dangerously close to his friend’s bony shoulder. Yuta moves him off with a single, bored finger, his eyesight never leaving the holozine in his lap. 

“You’ve been drooling,” he says.

“Uh, thanks for telling me.” 

He can’t remember now what he was dreaming about, but it definitely had to do with his mother being mad about _ something _ and that morphed into an argument with his father, and that turned into memories of being scolded by his brothers and like all escapists fantasies he started dreaming about that boy again. Jungwoo has never aged in all these years and of course, he’s never seen him again. Even the memory has turned fuzzy in his head. 

So that’s why he doesn’t even pretend to be surprised when half an hour later, he sees a familiar looking face plastered to the side of a three hundred floor building in the capital city, and the first thing he can say is, “Jungwoo?”

Taeyong, his other friend, looks over amused. “Jungwoo? So you _ have _ heard of him?”

Yuta scoffs, and Taeil can already hear the teasing in his tone. It’s no secret that Taeil buries himself in his studies and rarely pays attention to the outside world not immediately relevant to him. In this case, however, it’s surprising to his friends that he even knows a name. Taeil just doesn’t know why _ they _know that name. Or why after all these years, there he is, Jungwoo in the flesh. His likeness at least. 

The second time Taeil sees Jungwoo, he is nineteen years old, quite a bit taller, still not as confident in himself, but just as enamored. 

“I can’t believe you know him,” Taeyong reiterates, his following yawn overriding whatever mocking words Yuta is about to say. 

Their shuttle’s already approaching the landing bay, but when Taeil blinks and looks out the holographic windows which depict exactly what they would see if they’d been made of glass, Jungwoo is still there. And it’s very clearly him. The same features, the same smile, just older and more mature, more beautiful. 

“I… kind of don’t?” he admits. 

“He’s a model, duh,” says Yuta. “I hear he’s quite the rage right now on this planet, and more besides. Total ‘It-Boy’ and all that, whatever that means.”

“‘It-Boy?’” asks Taeil. 

Yuta swipes his holo-zine a few times, and sure enough there is an article Oreison’s leading celebrities, among them, Jungwoo’s handsome face. 

“Yeah, like ‘he’s got it all’ or something. Model, actor, singer, hangs in all the right circles.”

Taeil is itching to know more, like why he hadn’t been aware of this development in school. Like where Jungwoo has been for the last ten years since Taeil saw his face on the stage. He has to admit it shocks him, seeing Jungwoo’s face like this so large, glittering against the haze and muck of the Federation spaceport. The picture flickers like so many pixels and then seamlessly fades into an ad for a popular brand of perfume, the kind that promises seduction and probably delivers it too. 

The next time Jungwoo’s face emerges, it’s a video this time where his smile turns into a dangerous come-hither look followed by a close-up of his eyes so artfully lined with paint. 

A model, Yuta says. An actor, singer, It-Boy. Somehow, Tael never doubted he would see Jungwoo like this again. From a boy with such a pure smile, it is fitting Jungwoo would make a name for himself this way. What was always a dream is now a reality, and Taeil feels his childhood crush morphing into something a little… less pure. 

Across Yuta’s shoulder, the other friend in Taeil’s group of rich school buddies leans over to stare at the ad. 

“What’s his name?” says Kun. 

Taeyong answers for him. “Jungwoo.”

Kun leans back and hums. “Interesting. Looks like he’d be a great fuck.”

Taeil’s cheek flame a brilliant red, but Yuta is already on to something. 

“Hey, hey, Kun, Taeyong. He looks interested. Are you? Do you like him? Hey, maybe if Jungwoo is unavailable we can find someone just like him. I’ve heard there are _ loads _ of people for that, here on the planet.” 

And no, no, not this again. Taeil’s flush turns into a violent shade of mortified anger, but he just can’t take another jab at his nonexistent sex life. And with someone as hallowed as his precious Jungwoo of ten years’ memory… Taeil reacts the only way he knows how. 

“Like him? I only remembered I’ve heard of him, before he got really famous. He’s a tribute slave.” 

  
  
  
  


Across the rain-drenched capital city of Oreison, hidden behind thick walls, heavy curtains, and at least one locked door, Jungwoo stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes droop with fatigue, dark circles emerging from beneath the paint of his eyes as he tosses rag after rag into the trash until his face is bare and bereft of makeup. The burn of a dozen lights which ring the mirror make his eyes water even more, make his head hurt until he imagines he’s seeing images that aren’t even there. 

Someone knocks on the door. Jungwoo does not get up to open it. A moment later, as he’d figured, there comes to the noise of a key unlocking it from the outside. 

“Hello, beautiful,” comes a tired, bedraggled voice. Doyoung is cranky today, but then he usually is. The life of a handler of one of Oreison’s finest ‘celebrities’ is hard work. Jungwoo almost pities him. 

Instead, he shrugs. Without looking up, he says, “I’m almost done here.”

He has a few more lotions to apply to his face and neck, then find his veil and cape to protect him from the elements, and others’ gazes. It doesn’t do to give people freebies after all, not when people can pay a pretty penny for just a single glance his way. 

He shuffles around the desk, looking for the signature perfume he’s supposed to be modeling. Every part of him has to be perfectly brought together in keeping with his purpose. 

Doyoung remains in the doorway, watching him work. “So meticulous, as always.”

Jungwoo doesn’t bother making a face. He asks, “Where are we off to tonight, anyway?”

The hour is already growing late. Jungwoo would prefer returning home to rest, but after his appearance at the matinee, and because he has as yet found no sponsor for the summer season, he is no doubt set to attend some party or two. 

“The Oreison Summer Gala, at the Ancient Art Museum.”

Jungwoo nods while he gathers his things. All this work ridding his face of the painted dyes, and very soon he will have to apply them once more. Fortunately, he knows Doyoung will have acquired for him a private powder room at the museum. That gives his skin at least one hour to breathe before he needs to dress himself for his next big ‘role’.

“Am I part of the exhibit this time?” he has to ask, not without a tinge of humor. 

His handler smiles. “I think you’ll rather be allowed to walk around and eat at least. Mingle with the guests, show off your pretty self.”

“Find myself a sponsor?” Jungwoo stands and moves toward the doorway, following the other man out into the hall. 

“Up to you. I have a list of prospects of course. I can read them to you when we get into the shuttle,” Doyoung confirms. “You’ve been _ hired _ to socialize of course. I checked our accounts earlier. Two thousand international credits, from the museum to you, just to enlist your presence there.”

Jungwoo laughs. “I am getting popular then, aren’t I? I’ll be sure to mingle brightly.” 

Truthfully, very little of that money goes into his personal accounts. Almost all the credits, half the pretty things he’s given as gifts, they go somewhere else. Jungwoo doesn’t have a permanent home, no house to call his own, nor a shuttle. The food he doesn’t mooch from at parties is scant and poor. Most of the clothes he wears are sponsor given or loans. He lives a bejeweled existence for a man who is little more than a slave. 

Once, he’d had that opportunity. Freedom, but he didn’t take it. 

And anyway, he’s way too great of an actor to ever let go what he does best: _ acting. _

  
  
  


The following morning, Taeil’s friends are full of regrets, but not so much to stop berating him for not joining in their fun from the night before. Taeil was already jet-lagged from the three-day flight from Oreison’s biggest moon to the orbiting station above the planet’s sky, and just a little bit ill from the shuttle landing on the planet’s surface. Space travel, for all that it’s the only way to go, is just a bit too rough on his insides. It was way too soon, he decided, to attend some major gala event the same evening they arrived. His friends, of course, consider the matter differently. 

“Should've been there, Taeil,” cries Yuta with a voice too loud, wincing at his own words from a raging hangover. 

“Should have been there, or glad I wasn’t?”

Taeyong isn’t even awake yet. The guy is instead plastered to their hotel sofa still wearing his clothes from last night. He smells strongly of alcohol, stale perfume, and vomit. No part of this picture makes Taeil wish he’d gone with them instead of holing up in their extravagant two-room suite. He’d ordered room service, the hotel’s finest liquor, an android massage, and a holographic dreamscape experience. It came complete with a rated fantasy depicting Taeil and a half dozen nude models he’d picked out via online catalog. The dreamscape 6.0 processor plugged into the wristband on his left arm which is connected to his nervous system and shoots electric signals up his veins to the brain. It’s as real an experience as anyone can manufacture, and without the hassle of inviting strangers into the room. Best yet, Taeil doesn’t have to talk to anyone. It’s not really _ real, _ despite what his body thinks happened. 

In local lingo, it’s called a ‘spin’. To Taeil’s knowledge, neither Yuta nor Taeyong, nor Kun—who’s draped over an armchair with a towel over his head to block out the sun—had such an exciting night as he did, but then again, to each his own form of entertainment. 

Yuta is considering him across the room, a frown mingling with disappointment when Taeil refuses to bite. 

“One of these days, Taeil, you’re going to live up to your royal calling and sow some wild seeds.”

_ Unlikely, _ Taeil thinks. Aloud he says, “I bet all you sowed last night was some regurgitated wine.” 

Yuta doesn’t deny it. Instead, he sighs and tilts his head, waving one airy hand around as if in defeat. He looks awful, even as he claims to have had fun. His eyes are bloodshot and his uniform, what he hasn’t already peeled off, is a mess.

“I can’t believe you’re even awake,” says Taeil, who by contrast has been up for hours. He’s already freshly showered and dressed in a ceremonial uniform, a silvery red that bespeaks his station. Taeil doesn’t even have somewhere specific to be, but god help him if he goes out and someone who knows his family name catches him looking anything less than precise. 

“I have a lunch date with my parents at noon,” Yuta replies with no real enthusiasm. “Something about flunking three-quarters of my Academy classes. Enough about that though. Guess who we saw last night?”

Taeil raises an eyebrow. He really doesn’t care, but Yuta is going to tell him anyway. 

“You should guess. Come on, take a guess!”

“Uhm, do I have to?”

Yuta groans. “Uggh, you’re no fun.”

Taeil grins, for once having a little fun. “Okay, let me think. Oh, the President of the War Council. Maybe his niece? Two nieces? _ Three _ nieces? How about my mother, wait- no she’s still at home.” He gasps dramatically. “Was is, Taeyong’s mother?”

Taeyong’s mother holds a privileged seat on the Council for Cultural Rehabilitation. She’s a terror of a woman and therefore in the right industry. Taeil doesn’t exactly know what she does on a day to day basis, but generally speaking, the people who are sent into Rehabilitation facilities are dissenters, Offborns, persons of other species types who didn’t grow up in the Federated galaxies, or a combination of it all.

Yuta is giving him a deadened stare. “You know, she probably was, but that’s not the point.”

“It isn’t?”

Yuta heaves another groan and practically falls off the sofa. “You’re hopeless, Taeil. We saw that model! You know, the one on the billboard yesterday. Just thought you’d be curious to know.” 

For once, Taeil doesn’t have a witty retort. His lips fall silent and his eyes zone out. “Ah, really?”

Yuta, noticing his change of mood, laughs. “Yeah. He was there. And wow, way more handsome in person, I have to tell you.”

Taeil’s gaze drops a few notches. He stares at Yuta’s half tied shoelaces. “Uh huh?”

Suddenly, he can’t remember the dreamscape as vividly. Suddenly all the faces of the models are replaced with Jungwoo’s, just as he looked on the perfume ad. The slow burn of jealousy creeps through his veins, startling in its intensity. How many years has it been since Taeil has seen him as a boy? He whittles away the math in his head whilst ignoring Yuta’s probing stare. 

“Don’t worry, my man, Taeyong managed to snag his schedule off some manager dude. He’s quite the public persona around here. Even more than I thought, actually.”

Yuta drags himself up and wanders across the suite to find his luggage. It opens at the touch of his fingerprint, mechanically unfolding into various compartments, each perfectly organized with its contents on display. Can’t believe I have to get dressed on my own,” he complains offhand. “Don’t you think we could have snuck at least one maid into our suitcases.”

Grateful for the change of topics, Taeil quickly responds. “The hotel offers androids-”

“I don’t _ want _ an android. Only _ you _ like your mechanical attendants. I want flesh and blood; I want Mark. He’s so good at doing my hair. I looked like an absolute dolt last night without him.”

Taeil sniggers without really knowing why. “Well, too bad the _ servir _ aren’t allowed on this planet.” It’s more than unfair. The last time the _ servir _ revolted was over two hundred years ago, and yet their kind is still banned from Oreison, capital of the Galaxies. They don’t even have their own name anymore, and while Taeil doesn’t often think about this very hard, he does like Yuta’s attendant Mark, who lives in their dorm room year-round at school. 

“I know, I know,” Yuta complains some more. “Damnable wars, they’re all so _ stupid _. It’s so inconvenient having to travel without an entourage.”

“Get an android,” Taeil suggests. “Or hire an Offborn human.”

“Offborns are expensive. Can’t figure out why. Just because they look like us and share most of our DNA? Incredibly expensive.”

“Then you’ll just have to suffer another few months.”

He sighs. “Don’t worry, Taeil, my friend, I intend on doing just that. By the way, don’t schedule anything the day after tomorrow. Kun came up with some wild plans, and you’re obliged to come with us.”

Taeil frowns. “What kind of plans? The kind of plans _ you _ like doing, or perhaps it’s something _ I _actually like doing?”

“No clue,” Yuta admits. “Does anyone know what you like to do? Other than sit around _ fantasizing _.” He holds up his wristband mockingly, a tantalizingly wide smile on his face. “Either way, you have to come.”

There’s no way out. And meanwhile, Taeyong and Kun just keep snoozing on. 

  
  


****The plans Kun arranged turn out to be nothing more than a private tour through the Exotic Gardens. Taeil boards a luxurious open-air low atmo cruiser with some trepidation about how long this is going to take. To be sure, they have two months in Oreison, time to vacation as they please, but wasting an entire day drinking cocktails listening to an automated tour guide navigate them past the long lost remnants of whole civilizations’ topography seems an especially curious way to go, even for Kun. 

Above the cruiser, apart from the three of them are but a handful of other people, including one middle-aged couple on vacation and a private tutor shepherding a trio of schoolgirls, all likely sisters. Sticking to themselves are several public educators listening raptly to the narration, and two government officials, their badges of rank proudly on display, lowly though they are. The two are escorting a young man who can only be the son of some fancy foreign dignitary if the way the officials fawn and preen over him is telling enough. 

Taeil meets the young man’s bored expression with something resembling empathy. He receives a curt smile in return. The man is handsome in a classic kind of way, probably near to their age, but Taeil doesn’t recognize the dress. Definitely a foreigner, he concludes. 

Meanwhile, Yuta, Kun, and Taeyong entertain themselves at the inflight bar while they pretend to be mesmerized by the scenery around him. An unseen voice narrates the excursion as the cruiser adjusts to a new altitude. 

_ “Our dear respected passengers, if you’ll look to the starboard rail, we are now entering all that remains of the Great Snowforest of the late planet Wintrus. The trees you see now were brought as saplings into our collection near the terminus of the Fifth Endung War in the year 4432 just before the Great Melting. This Snowforest once ranged across the largest mountain range ever found in the planets of the Crystal Galaxy, and is said to have contributed to an atmospheric phenomenon that powered the entire climate of the northern hemisphere and unseen elsewhere since the days of…” _

Taeil stares gravely at the forest beyond, letting the narration drone on. The Great Snowforest, or at least the replica seen here, was certainly a treasure of the Oreison Exotic Gardens, yet to Taeil it looks lifeless. And it is. The trees themselves, he’s heard, are incapable of thriving outside their homework and owe everything to the chem-mechanical devices of Oreison’s finest engineers. At least they look organic, and once upon a time the forest had entirely _ been _ organic. Now, however, it just stands, white trunks swaying rhythmically in the breeze with branches laden heavily with manufactured ‘snow’. 

Such a shame, Taeil thinks, as he accepts a refill of his drink, that the original forest was destroyed along with its planet in what is generously known as the Great Melting, also known as: complete nuclear annihilation.

“Awesome stuff, right?” says Kun. He gives Taeil such a curious stare as if daring him to disagree.

“Beautiful,” Taeil sort of agrees. “Never knew you were so into trees.”

Yuta pipes in. “What, we can’t also be academic on vacation?”

Taeil snorts as the narration draws to a close reminding them to enjoy the view. It makes zero sense to him that Kun, Taeyong, or even Yuta for that matter would find this kind of thing enjoyable. “Well, as long as you’re enjoying your alcohol, why not stare at a dead forest while you do it.”

“That’s the spirit!” says Yuta. 

But Taeyong is eyeballing Yuta conspiratorially, and Kun looks downright devious. 

“Let’s… let’s all get another drink, huh?” says Taeil, feeling oddly uncomfortable and desperate to change the situation. 

The three of them agree and turn away first but Taeil catches the eyes of the young foreigner, startled to find in his face an expression of deep disapproval. 

Sometimes, it’s really hard, reminding himself he doesn’t _ always _ have to go with the flow. But each of his schoolmates has such uniquely strong personalities. Taeil wouldn’t consider himself weak, but it’s definitely easier when he doesn’t intentionally open himself up to ridicule, good-natured or otherwise. As for their current tour, Taeil doesn’t hold any strong opinions, but depending on where you stand in the Federation’s culture wars, the reconstructed Snowforest is either a tribute to man’s ingenuity or a monument to the dead. Who knows yet what this foreign stranger’s persuasion is, but Taeil prefers to keep his mouth shut. 

He turns away, putting aside his disgruntlement, but follows them to the bar because, after all, it was his suggestion. They each other another cocktail from the Offborn human server and only Taeil looks at her name, Yerim, while his friends don’t even appear to notice her face. She serves them stoically but startles when a voice beside Taeil suddenly speaks. 

“Hello. How are you?”

Taeil peeks a glance to his right. The seat has been taken up by the stranger, who smiles at Taeil before asking in the most polite tone possible for a cocktail recommendation. Once done, he looks at Taeil. 

“You don’t mind if I sit, do you? I’m Jung Jaehyun.”

He holds out his hand, unmindful of Taeil’s confused stare. Taeil takes it, firm grip meeting firm grip, and the man continues. “Good to meet you. My father’s the ambassador for Taranis. Might I ask about you as well.”

It’s clear by his words and his title what his status is here. Taeil tenses up but says evenly, “Moon Taeil. I’m… my grandfather is the Grand Prince of Belenos.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen in mild astonishment, though he doesn’t appear entirely overawed, more like he might have guessed Taeil was someone like this. Taeil has always been reluctant to boast of his family’s power, but Belenos is one of the largest and most powerful planets this side of the Federated galaxies. His grandfather wields enormous power in the Governor’s Council which meets every five years in person on the planet Oreison, and once every year via long communication. 

“Belenos,” Jaehyun repeats, mulling it over. “I hear you have some… nice summers.” 

No mention of the last Council Assembly which ended two months ago with the controversial decision, pushed primarily by Belenos, to continue the war. Taranis, Taeil clearly recalls, is an electoral planet run by a board of presidents who voted for peace. Jaehyun’s father is no doubt here now because of it. 

Taeil nods. 

“What brings you to Oreison?” asks Jaehyun. “Work, pleasure? Vacation?”

His gaze drifts passed Taeil’s seat over to Yuta and Taeyong who are deep in conversation about some Offborn girl they met last year and evidently shared a night with. Kun, indifferent to the plight of the server, is steadily ignoring his friends and instead making eyes at the girl. Taeil could kick each of them right now, not that he’s ever really done something like that in the past. But though Jaehyun’s face is a mask, Taeil can feel his revulsion. 

“Vacation,” he says quickly, drawing Jaehyun’s eyes back to him. “We have two months off from the Academy.”

“Ahhh.”

There is only one Academy in all of the Federated galaxies worth mentioning, so Taeil doesn’t bother elaborating which. The Oreison Academy which operates primarily on its largest moon is where every offspring of every important somebody enrolls from the time they are twelve to the time they are twenty-two. It focuses largely on government training, which is a nice way of saying it teaches young adults how to be as haughty as their parents, and for the most part, it works well.

Taeil has never seen Jaehyun there, but that doesn’t surprise him. Students from Taranis are rare as they stick mostly to their own planet. 

“What about you?” he asks. 

Jaehyun indicates the two dignitaries looking uncomfortably alone on the other side of the deck. “An educational side trip. Because what reeks of decadence more than a hundred thousand acres of the finest plunder of the universe?”

His smile is sharp. Taeil has a mind that perhaps Jaehyun is trying to rile him up. It has to be boring being chaperoned by middle-aged government lackeys whose views Jaehyun obviously doesn’t share. The problem is, Taeil isn’t exactly ready to bite. He merely grins. 

“Will you be here long?

“A month or so,” says Jaehyun. 

They are still cruising past the Snowforest. Every now and then the narration will kick in, directing their eyes to the scene below, usually for a peek at some animal hiding behind the foliage. More replicas, of course, pieced together by advanced taxidermy and automotive technology. 

“Fascinating,” says Jaehyun, after they pass a particularly mechanical animation of a flock of birds whose species went extinct four hundred years ago upon arrival. 

Taeil glances to make sure his friends aren’t paying attention. Then he sighs quietly and murmurs, “Right? Any idea how long this tour is supposed to last? I got roped into this so…”

Jaehyun peers at his wristband which boasts an impressive array of numbers and symbols, exactly like Taeil’s own. “About ten more hours before the grand finale, I think?

“Grand finale?”

It’s probably too soon to be calling Jaehyun his new best friend, but the ambassador’s son smiles and appears to lighten up. “Wait, you don’t know?”

“Know what?” Taeil shakes his head.

Jaehyun hums. “And here I thought everyone in the Gardens today was here for the same event. They’re revealing a brand new monument today. It’s why I consented to come along, though probably not for the same reason as most people. These dignitaries, they’re trying to impress my father, and me vicariously.” His face grows hard but he continues nevertheless, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “It’s supposed to be a rather grand occasion, I just don’t think they realize I hate these things more than most.”

Still lost, Taeil dares to ask, “W-what is the event?”

Jaehyun’s eyebrows go up. He smiles, at least one pronounced dimple revealing itself while he says facetiously, “The unveiling of the Crystal Temple, of course.” 

Taeil pales. “What? _ The _Crystal Temple?” As in, the central religious monument of the entire race of semi-conquered Offborn peoples?

“The very one. Lifted wholesale, foundation and all, now for the viewing pleasure of Federation taxpayers. Quite the spectacle, though only a dozen cruisers were invited today to the grand event. They like to make it seem exclusive, you know?”

And Taeil does know. It makes him feel a little bit sick, but this is how Oreison culture—and thus all of Federation society—operates. 

“I never guessed.”

“I heard even Jungwoo will be here today.” At Taeil’s astonished look, Jaehyun mistakes it for confusion. “You’ve heard of him, right? Yeah, they’re bringing out all the stops.” 

Jungwoo stares and stares at the temple, his jaw firmly set, anger capped off and kept from a boiling range because he isn’t currently at liberty to display his emotions. Doyoung should have told him. Also, Jungwoo should have known. Instead, he allows a bone-deep wariness to seep across his body as he turns on his stool towards his makeup mirror, a pleasant smile already plastered to his face. The scene is buzzing with staff setting up for upcoming gathering as well set for the photoshoot. 

Jungwoo tunes them all out, even Doyoung. So many models these days rely on digital paint boxes, but Jungwoo prefers to do his face himself. He opens his kit, double checks that all his tools and brushes are there, then sets about choosing the perfect color palette for his skin. A disgruntled makeup programmer stands off to the side complaining to another employee about being shooed away, but Jungwoo doesn’t care. The Gardens hired Jungwoo today, not some nobody who has to rely on a programmable paint schematics uploaded to a computer and wielded by an entirely different set of hands. It isn’t that he distinctly distrusts the paint boxes or their human programmers, but that he prefers to self express through his own hand. And right now, that measure of personal familiarity is all that’s getting him through this afternoon. He’ll see about the evening later, if he can keep smiling through. 

“Mister… Jungwoo?” says another staff member. Jungwoo notices, of course, the lack of an addressed last name. 

“Yes?”

“I’ve been asked to inform you that you have an hour before the first VIP cruiser arrives. Please be in front of the temple for the preliminary shoot by then, thank you.” 

Jungwoo sees the Gardens employee off with another smile and a very curt nod. Appearances are everything here, even for a minor peon of the Director of Operations who either happens to not know his full name or who has entirely forgotten it. Jungwoo has some amount of pride in that. Most of the people he meets behind the scenes for events like this are acutely aware of the irony of his status. Jungwoo’s Offborn, but famous. He has no other name but the one splashed on the society columns of everyone’s favorite holozines. To anyone else, they might show disrespect for either his origins or his profession. Unfortunately for them, Jungwoo is much too above them now. There are only a few people who would willingly look down on him now, for example, the person in charge who associated his name with this event, his appearance to celebrate the ‘rescue’ and ‘transfer’ of the Crystal Temple. As if they wouldn’t know that only two decades ago the family of their esteemed entertainer had probably worshiped at this very altar. 

When he finally gets a moment, Jungwoo sinks his across Doyoung’s shoulder and says, bitterly polite, “You should have told me.” 

Doyoung gives no explanation and makes no apology. His face is rather tight and strained at the cheeks as he says, “You have thirty minutes left, Jungwoo. And unless you want to greet the guests with the same scowl you are secretly giving me, I’d advise you to shut up and keep smiling.”

“You’re the absolute worst,” he says through his pretty, smiling teeth.

“Don’t I know it,” Doyoung responds the same. 

There’s no point in continuing this train of thought. He’s been hired to play a part, so play it he will. Just so long as no one expects him to be happy about it inside. Good thing nobody ever asks. 

He arrives at the set with fifteen minutes to spare. The photography crew is already in position. Jungwoo shakes hands with the lead photographer and turns on his professional self. 

“Baekhyun, what a dream to be working with you again. The set today is beautiful.” 

Only one of these statements is true. 

“Oh, my dear, thank you, but _ you _ are the lovely one as always.” The photographer beams even as he stretches to wrap both his palms around Jungwoo’s hand. It’s a gesture too long and too intimate to be considered appropriate. Jungwoo removes his hand as quickly as he can without offending, then he looks around the set. 

It’s oddly touching. The designer has brought in enough special memorabilia from Jungwoo’s home planet to fit the atmosphere. In the foreground there is a mismatched collection of personal kneeling and sitting altars, each made of a translucent metal that shines light blue in the sunlight. Jungwoo takes a seat where a staff member directs, his body tingling unpleasantly when he perches upon the gently sloped seat. As for the temple in background, he ignores it completely. No point marveling at the grand arched building with its blue pearlescent sheen sanding tall and magnanimous like a hollow three-tiered cake. He’s already familiar with it. 

And besides, inside those glorious ovular windows is… nothing. Perhaps the new Oreison proprietors thought they captured a masterpiece, the singular fantastic possession of a conquered race, but only a few outside the Crystal Galaxy know what Jungwoo knows: that the temple had been emptied long before their invaders arrived. Emptied with its contents hidden and buried. Somewhere back ‘home’ Jungwoo’s God still lives. 

The first cruisers come in bringing with them the whiff of chemical fuel. Jungwoo holds his breath and wraps his long robes around himself as though for protection from the suddenly curious viewers leaning over the failings of the floating ships above. Jungwoo is dressed in a dark royal blue, like a bilious cape. The folds of the arms fall well below his wrists and it trails along the ground behind him. The gown is made of heavy synthetic silk and no doubt tailored to mode what the Federation considers the traditional garb of the Crystal God’s priests. Jungwoo privately scoffs at their efforts, though he decrees the gown is comfy and a flattering color to match his skin. There is no tie, however, to hold the front of it closed. Jungwoo artfully gathers up the material and drapes it over his knees at an angle. 

So there he sits, the perfect picture of poise and easy, ready to smile and play the part and do homage to his temple in the most twisted way imaginable. 

“Are you good?” Doyoung asks, one last time. 

Jungwoo fixates a smile on him but doesn’t say anything. 

Doyoung’s eyes shoot him a warning but then the photographer’s assistants start their pre-shoot bellows and Doyoung sweeps away. 

By this time, half a dozen of the prized guests are approaching the set. Another cruiser docks behind them, its passenger cheering restlessly as they wait for the down lift to materialize. They’re all highly fashionable and distinguished, if a bit tipsy, men and women, all human of course, and each of them most decidedly born on the right side of the universe. Under Baekhyun’s watchful eyes, Jungwoo sits upright and greets them with a lovely smile as they marvel at the temple, at the photoshoot which they have the privilege to observe, and at Jungwoo himself. They ones who stay are all young and rich. Some he even recognizes. It’s the same crowd a lot of the time. They all come to see and be seen, to drink and to party, and they consider themselves modern. If there’s one thing Jungwoo understands it’s that every new generation considers themselves as ‘modern’. And to think, this generation hasn’t yet been touched by the war, and they likely never will be. 

“Jungwoo! Oh, there he is again. So beautiful.”

“He’s even more exquisite than in holographs.”

“I don’t think I could even begin to compare.”

“Jungwoo, hey, hey we met before, do you remember!?”

“Jungwoo, have you met my cousin Ursula, oh gods, she’s such a fan. Will you dance with her later?”

By the time five cruisers have put down, Jungwoo has smiled so many times and shook so many hands. He is invariably the center of the flock, greeting new faces and embracing familiar ones as well. Only several are welcome to him. Following behind the throng of socialites come three exquisitely dressed figures with the most dazzling features Jungwoo has ever seen, besides himself of course. He catches their eyes one by one. Lu Han nods at him, Ten smiles, and Sicheng makes no expression but that’s not unusual for him. They don’t stop to chat. A man Jungwoo knows only by name takes the oldest of the Offborns in his arms and sweeps him gently towards another section of the grounds, the other two following. Jungwoo is disappointed but still, that means he’ll have at least three friends tonight to hang out with, three people who genuinely like him, and whom he likes in return. 

Right on time, Baekhyun claps his hands to signal the start of the photoshoot. “Quiet, silence, please! We shall begin now.”

He gives them another five minutes for the guests to either line up in a ring or else move on to the next set of entertainment. Only twenty or so young people stay behind. While Jungwoo preens before the camera he does his best to block from his view the sight of their eager, ogling eyes. One in particular seems particularly in awe and doing his best to pretend he isn’t. Jungwoo accidentally catches his eyes for a moment. 

The man just stares, then not so casually looks away, but his cheeks remain flushed and Jungwoo smirks. Sometimes he meets fans who surprise him, but most of the time they are so, so predictable. He hopes this one won’t find him afterward to profess his love. To be sure, there are times when things like that amuse him. But not today, surely he doesn’t need to deal with that kind of thing today. 

“Now, look here, Jungwoo, please,” Baekhyun is saying to get attention, and Jungwoo sighs, wondering what it is this time. 

As the day progressed, there was really nothing Taeil could do that would prepare him for this moment. Jaehyun’s warning had not come soon enough. 

Because Jungwoo is there. _ Right there _. Several days ago he didn’t even know he was capable of such a ridiculous, one-sided celebrity crush. Jungwoo was a little boy that was supposed to stay in the past, just one of those memories Taeil pulls out on his bad days and dreams about for a little while until he’s happy again. That little boy who shined so brightly on the stage and was everything a young Taeil wasn’t. 

How inconvenient that those memories change so fast. 

“Oh, man. Look at him,” Yuta is whispering to Taeyong, who butts elbows with Kun, who smirks. “I told you, I _ knew _ this was a good idea.”

Taeil ignores him. He knows he’s being too obvious to call it mere admiration. Jungwoo is supposed to be a stranger to him, just a face on an ad, just a socialite model. But the fact that he is here right now, Jungwoo in the flesh, and looking every bit the dream fantasy Taeil likes to order in his spins, unnerves him more than anything. Here, Taeil could actually walk up and talk to him, touch him even, according to those who have crowded around. 

Yet he holds back, curiously comforted by Jaehyun’s near presence. 

Maybe because he knows Jaehyun would judge him extra hard for it, but Taeil refuses to introduce himself like those other fawning fans. That doesn’t keep Jaehyun from noticing though. 

“You… look like you know him,” says Jaehyun. 

“Only by name,” Taeil is quick to reply. “I saw him once when I was a kid. I was at a play with my brothers; he was one of the stage actors.” He hopes he sounds nonchalant, that this is enough to wave away the first initial reaction which he’d not been able to vanquish. 

“Hmm.”

Taeil still finds a spot to stand outside the perimeter of the photoshoot. He truly does want to see the Crystal Temple, this stolen monument to another civilization’s god. And it is beautiful, magnificent even as in every picture Taeil has seen. The photographs have not done it justice. Taeil suspects this photoshoot will not do it either. Outside of its homeworld, the temple looks tragic. 

And Jungwoo, is he not from the same galaxy? Taeil has a hard time reconciling that possibility, for the model, actor, fashion star and all around ‘It-Boy’ has not even once looked at the temple. His expression remains impassive, his smiles only for the camera, some for his audience. 

The Crystal Galaxy is fairly large though. Taeil remembers from a course he took years ago on cultural galactic history that in that galaxy are over three hundred unique civilizations from over fifty habitable planets. Not all of them worshipped the same god, although by the time of the Second Endung War, most did. Maybe Jungwoo is among those who do not. Or maybe Jungwoo is just one damned fine actor. 

Taeil observes him minutely when he thinks he can get away with it. Jungwoo’s hair shines in brilliant silver accents, his bangs have been swept back, accentuating thick black eyebrows that frame the rest of his face. His eyes are violet, his cheeks dusted with a silvery powder in pale shades of pink and blue. His lips are nude but shiny. Beneath the royal blue robes, he might even be bare. 

Taeil tries and fails not to stare where a growing swath of pale skin glistens under the lights every time he moves to reposition. It begins with his neck. Then a collar bone appears, then the other. Under the photographer's directions Jungwoo shifts once again, stretching out on the prop on which he is set and reaching an arm out long. The robe slips again, this time revealing one corner of his chest. Jungwoo moves so sensually for all that he does not make it look intentional. 

Someone elbows Taeil in the ribs and he looks up angrily into the face of a snickering Yuta. He’s been caught staring of course. He glances quickly back at the subject and realizes with a pang, Jungwoo has caught him staring as well. 

He flushes but dares for just a second to look into those eyes. And then, he can’t do it anymore. He looks away and tries not to panic. Jaehyun is wearing a very nice set of boots, yes, those are _ very _ nice boots. 

“Are you… okay?” asks Jaehyun. Taeil quickly raises his chin and smiles. 

“Yes?”

It seems like Jaehyun suspects something. His eyebrows arch curiously, and there’s a cruel set to his lip like he’s going to challenge Taeil’s ‘casual interest’ in Jungwoo, but then they catch the photographer saying something in the distance. 

“Now look here, Jungwoo, please.” His next words are more of a whisper but there is no mistaking Jungwoo’s voice a few seconds after that, loud and upset. 

“What?”

Taeil turns his head sharply in their direction. Jungwoo looks stunned, but he’s staring at the photographer with more than a hint of anger. The photographer is already walking towards him impatiently waving his hands. 

“What do you mean, ‘what’? This is my shoot. You agreed to my rules in the contract. Now, take off the robe.” 

Taeil stiffens in immediate anger, too stunned to do anything. For a few more seconds he believes he’d heard wrong. This man surely didn’t say what he thought he heard. To a person like Jungwoo? Even if he is a tribute slave, he’s also famous across worlds. But, it seems he isn’t mistaken. 

Jungwoo arches his body like he wants to bolt. His lips press together in anger. His eyes are locked in a battle of wills with the photographer who doesn’t even think that what he’s said if anything to be ashamed of. 

“It’s just the one sleeve, Jungwoo. And well, thigh. You have such an incredible body, why it would be positively a waste not to use this opportunity to display it. And with such a lovely backdrop too…”

Jungwoo does not in fact glance at the temple behind him. His face turns instead in another direction to a tall, dark-haired man standing behind the set and if looks could kill, that man would be dead by now. The man, however, just stands there silently with his face in a grimace like there’s nothing he can do to help Jungwoo. 

The photographer continues. “Of course, it’s completely up to you… I’d certainly be okay canceling this shoot. And we only have a few remaining schedules this year, the group shoot as well… I’m sure your fellow colleagues would be fine if we didn’t meet for that.”

Jungwoo’s eyes sweep in another direction to where the rest of the guests have departed, but meeting no one’s gaze, he turns back to the photographer, lets a shiver pass through his body and says, painfully, “Baekhyun, my apologies. There is no need to cancel. My mind was only wandering. Shall we continue?”

The photographer beams. Taeil goes frigid. His hands ball into fists. On one side of him, Jaehyun is staring at the exchange with a smoldering glare. On the other, Kun is laughing. Many of the other guests are tittering amongst themselves. A few who had gone off earlier return now to watch the spectacle of famed socialite Jungwoo peeling off one shoulder of his deep blue robe. The fabric falls artfully in folds down the side of his body even as Jungwoo repositions himself in front of the camera. 

Taeil looks away, but the picture is already branded in his eyes. Without even one hint of his earlier distress, Jungwoo has confidently bared half his body. Strong neck muscles sink down onto a delicate collar bone, which touches upon a well-built chest and firm stomach. His skin smooth, flawless, _ perfect _, Taeil thinks, even as he pushes aside a vague ache of desire welling up deep beneath his gut. Jungwoo has let the robe fall away from his pelvis too. He sits there fully exposed and pretending it’s normal. 

But it isn't. It _ shouldn’t _ be normal. 

Taeil feels a hand on his shoulder. “Taeil? You’re really gonna miss this?” It’s Taeyong, backed by Yuta’s giggles. 

Taeil ignores them. His eyes seek Jaehyun’s again, confident that least someone here shares in his disgust. 

“Uhm, actually, Taeil is going to go with me,” says Jaehyun, and Taeil is so relieved. He quickly agrees. He doesn’t want to leave Jungwoo, but then he doesn’t know what he is supposed to do. He can’t help him. He doesn’t even know him. 

Still, hating himself for this, he looks back one last time. 

Jungwoo is looking straight at him. 

  
  


The party, once it gets into full swing, is just a million others. The platform floats in midair, levitating gently towards the grown whenever a guest comes on or off, sometimes floating so high Taeil can see the entirety of the park with its countless stolen artifacts, architecture, and ecology. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this is nothing native to the planet Oreison here. 

He finds himself ignoring his friends more often than not. The three of them have gotten themselves drunk once again, as if they haven’t been drinking all day. Kun is flirting with a server who remains steadfastly professional with him. Taeyong is actually slumped over the bar. Only Yuta is still making the rounds, occasionally trying to drag one of them along, or Taeil if he gets too close. But Taeil sticks to Jaehyun instead and Jaehyun only half bothers to indulge Yuta’s antics until he leaves them alone again. 

Jungwoo doesn’t make his appearance on the platform until a whole hour into the party. He’s fully dressed this time with his makeup redone, still wearing the blue robes only this time matching them with a pair of white silk pants and a sash. He’s all smiles and chatter, conversing equitably with anyone who buzzes around him. And quite a few people do. Taeil is not among them. 

“You know,” says Jaehyun, once he catches Taeil staring across the platform again, “for somebody who claims practically no history with that one over there…” he indicates Jungwoo, “you do seem to have a strange fascination for him.”

“I don’t. Not really.”

Jaehyun doesn’t seem to buy it, but he also doesn’t pry. Taeil sighs, because how does one go about explaining a crush that wasn’t supposed to be a crush, and before today was entirely innocent?

Jaehyun doesn’t bother him anymore about it, but unfortunately, that’s not the end of the matter. 

Perhaps it’s just how he is, but Jungwoo does not stay in one place all evening. Taeil notices him making the rounds, sometimes in small groups of sycophants, sometimes with two or three other men who are painted and as beautiful as he is, elbow to elbow with locked arms and delighted whispers like he’s intimately acquainted with them. Taeil watches warily as Jungwoo draws closer and closer to his corner of the platform, his nerves on edge from pretending disinterest. 

And of course, Yuta appears right by his side dragging a buzzed and drowsy Taeyong just as Bakhyun’s party comes upon them. 

“Oh, Taeil, look who it is!”

By the sound of his teasing, Taeil’s face grows red, and Jungwoo suddenly stares. Yuta doesn’t let up. 

“Taeil here is an admirer of yours. We’re here tonight especially because of you.” His smile is so wide, his eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Jungwoo’s eyebrows go up, lips pressed together in tight amusement as he looks Taeil up and down like he’s appraising him, and finding him unworthy. Jungwoo is actually taller than he is. That’s the first weight that hits Taeil upside the head. Standing this close it actually feels like he’s bearing down on Taeil, judging him. 

“Taeil, is it?”

“He’s a prince,” says Taeyong confidently, rolling his words as only the drunk can do. 

Taeil falters and realizes that Jaehyun is, for once, not here to save him. “Ahhhm.”

But Jungwoo only laughs at him. “Cute,” he says, before wandering off. 

Taeyong suddenly feigns distress. “Wait, wait, don’t go! Taeil, don’t you know? I just heard this, but he can be _ bought! _ Can you believe that? That’s totally your game, isn’t it?”

As the world seems to shrink, but not enough to make Taeil disappear, Jungwoo turns back in shock, his face haughty, and he once again stares hard enough to belittle Taeil’s entire existence. One of his friends, a beautiful man with sharp eyes and a cruel face, opens his mouth. 

“Excuse you?” 

Yuta steps up to Taeyong’s rescue, hands placating, “What, isn’t it true?” 

The sharp-eyed man practically hisses before a third man steps in front of him, blocking him from view. “I think you’re drunk,” he says with a deep voice, and Yuta also has to look up into a face that is glaring daggers down at him. Interestingly enough, the stance seems to intimidate him and Yuta deflates. “Come through the proper channels next time, when you are sober.” 

Taeil has been staring between each of his and Jungwoo’s friends that he almost doesn’t notice when Jungwoo steps up between the two. With a hand on his friends’ shoulders, he turns them around, “Ten, Sicheng, enough of this. Come on, we have so many more fun things we can do tonight.” 

To Taeil, however, he reserves an especially degrading look. 

“I…” Taeil begins. 

Jungwoo cuts him off. “I suppose you are an interested party then, _ Prince _Taeil. Well, call up my handler in a month. I’m afraid I’m booked for the time being. So, for tonight, I’m afraid to say you can look all you want, but please… no touching the merchandise.”

Then he smiles and vanishes with a swish of his robes. 

Jungwoo is mortified, sure, though this isn’t really the first time something like this happens, and he fancies he hit it rather well. Relatively well, at least. He’s not sure if he’s dragging Ten and Sicheng or if they’re dragging him, but until he stands in the quieter space of his eldest colleague, Jungwoo doesn’t breathe easy. 

Lu Han is his senior in this business. Taught him, and the others, nearly everything they know. Some talents just come naturally. The flirting, the charm. If he wasn’t born with it Jungwoo would be at a loss. But other things require mentorship and that’s where Lu Han comes in. He’s the person who taught him pride in the midst of humiliation. So when Lu Han looks at him with a barely concealed sweep of concern, Jungwoo smiles like nothing is wrong. And they both know he’s not fine, but it’s the moment that counts. Jungwoo has three friends by his side right now, and Doyoung somewhere else. Except for his handler, all of them are Offborns, and just this once, that’s a comforting thing. They understand, they know what it feels like. To be in the midst of glitz and glamor and then be suddenly reminded that you are nothing but chattel. 

To be sure, Jungwoo feels a tiny bit bad. That man’s face, Taeil’s, had burned bright red in embarrassment. After all, it hadn’t been him who spoke first. Also, he hadn’t stayed around at the photoshoot to watch Jungwoo’s complete humiliation at the hands of the photographer. 

“What are you looking at?” Lu Han whispers, hand now rubbing comforting circles on Jungwoo’s back. 

Ten scoffs. “Nothing. You should be looking at nothing.”

Sicheng is a little more grounded. He tells Lu Han what happened in sparse details. 

Jungwoo sighs and drags his gaze away from the morose figure of Taeil moping in the far corner. He looks like he could be knocked over by the flimsiest breeze. It’s not exactly how Jungwoo expects _ princes _ to act. Then again, the universe is large and even princes come in all shapes and sizes.

“You should apologize.”

“What?” Ten is looking daggers at Lu Han’s suggestion. 

Sicheng agrees though. “Later maybe, but you should. What if he really does want to sponsor you next? Or—”

Jungwoo snorts. “Honestly, that’s the least of my worries.”

“You could let me finish,” Sicheng replies grumpily. 

“I don’t need to. Look, I’m sorry if he’s embarrassed. Maybe he should get better friends. And if he’s really that upset then he can apologize to me. He’s a prince. I think his dignity can take a single punch and live to tell the tale.”

Sicheng sighs. Ten is frowning. Lu Han says, “I’m afraid that’s not how this life works, but enough for now. I’m sure you have a job to do. We all do.” 

The other two murmur and Jungwoo slowly exhales. Lu Han is staring across the platform at his own sponsor, a small, cheerful man whom Jungwoo suspects is more than a little in love with him. He doesn’t ask what Lu Han thinks about it. None of them are quite as popular as Jungwoo; they don’t share in his all-around socialite status. But at the end of the day, their profession is the same. 

Which is why Jungwoo really doesn’t care to go about fixing things, whether he regrets it or not. His fellow Offborns head off to mingle away and for the moment Jungwoo has a rare moment alone, a chance to breathe without thinking about what charming things he has to say next. 

It’s a shame then, that his gut refuses to let it go. 

Once upon a time, being mean hadn’t been in his nature. On the other hand, after the day he’s had, Jungwoo doesn’t have the energy to make amends. 

He moves to another spot on the platform, sometimes entertaining the guests, one of whom asks him to sing a song. It’s just a silly drinking song, but Jungwoo sings it with cheer. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Taeil watching him again. Jungwoo turns away and gravitates to another place. By the time the events staff corral everyone into the center of the platform to reveal a giant cake the exact replica of the crystal Temple, Jungwoo excuses himself. 

“Down please,” he asks the attendant in charge of the platform lift. Rather than wait for the entire platform to descent, he steps up to the line and, taking a deep breath, prepares for the sensation of floating. The lift is made of particles Jungwoo never experienced on his homeworld. Molecules that appear as light swarm his body like a cushion and compress on all sides. By the time he finishes his exhale, his feet are on the ground. 

It’s cold down here, but Jungwoo is blissfully alone. Alone in front of the temple he’d thought years ago to never see again. It’ll be empty now with all the guests above. With hesitant steps, Jungwoo walks toward it, eyes marveling at the sight which earlier he’d refused to acknowledge. He’d expected to cry. Oddly enough, he’s dry-eyed now. 

Just his luck though, Jungwoo hears footsteps inside the outermost room of the temple. Jungwoo steps over the threshold. 

“Oh!” says a voice. 

Taeil shines blue from the illuminated lights reflecting across the room. Beyond would be more empty hallways leader to smaller enclaves and places of private worship. Empty shrines missing their statues, devoid of furniture, full with the moon and starlight which press in through the translucent architecture. For a temple which has always been a place of the night, it’s eerily devoid of life, with one notable exception. 

Jungwoo hums. “Figured it would be you.”

“I’m sorry?”

Jungwoo shrugs. “I didn’t think anyone had left the party already.”

Taeil’s smile is already apologetic. He sounds as nervous as he looks, even in the dim light. “These parties… aren’t really my thing. Did you leave too?”

“Yes. I was tired of preening like a caged bird, why?”

Taeil has nothing to say to that. Jungwoo guesses he must be quick to fluster. Sponsors like that are so easy, not that Jungwoo is considering it… 

He turns his gaze away and stares about the empty temple room. Maybe the curators of the Oreison Garden are proud of their new acquisition, but not a single Offborn who truly knows his god imagines he could be defeated this simply. Jungwoo is standing in but a building after all, just a structure, a hollow vessel. And with one of his conquerors, no less. 

“Where are you from, _ Prince _ Taeil?”

Taeil grimaces, but the first thing he says is, “Just Taeil, if you don’t mind.”

“You aren’t a real prince then?”

There’s a slight hesitation. “I am, sort of. My… grandfather is the Grand Prince of Belenos.”

Jungwoo whistles. A cruel sneer rolls off his lips. I guessed you were a somebody, but here you are actually _ exalted!” _

“It’s really nothing,” Taeil pleads. 

“Ah, well, there you have it wrong. Maybe it feels like nothing to you, but as an Offborn who makes his profession in the—shall we call it the escort business?—guys like you are how I make my living, and believe me when I say, royalty talks.”

Taeil doesn’t seem to know what to do with this line of conversation. He bows his head, looking awkward. And Jungwoo has a sudden change of heart. 

He steps back and rubs his hand to his temple. “You know what, I’m sorry.”

“What?” says Taeil.

Jungwoo wavers for a moment but continues. “For earlier. And now. I have this tendency to say whatever’s on my mind and sometimes it comes out… rude?”

“Oh.”

Jungwoo doesn’t expect that answer. “Oh?”

“I mean, you don’t have to apologize, but thank you anyway.” Taeil’s smile is a sad little thing. “Sometimes I wish I could be like you.”

“Like me? Having to constantly charm people?”

When Taeil meets his eyes, they’re even sadder. “Is that what you think you have to do right now, charm me?”

Either he’s not looking for an answer, or he doesn’t want to hear it. He looks away and says, “My friends are like that sometimes. Upfront and crass. Actually, if I’m being honest, they’re always like that. I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable before.” 

Jungwoo’s eyebrows ride up. Here is a man, a prince in fact, apologizing for… what? Assuming what’s only the truth? For eyeing Jungwoo’s body? 

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Taeil hums, and Jungwoo assumes this is the end. Taeil makes for one of the archways to leave the temple, slow steps, like he’s deliberating the environment. Jungwoo watches him move, arms crossed in front of his chest. He isn’t quite prepared for Taeil to stop, turn his head and ask, “Are you really okay, though? How… can you be used to it?”

Jungwoo balks. No one has ever asked him that, no person of the Oreison Alliance at least, surely. Words, feelings, thoughts. So much of it wells up inside Jungwoo’s mind in response to this unexpected, sympathetic body. Is Taeil asking because he really wants to know, or is it just small talk? Somehow Jungwoo doubts the latter. Taeil’s face is too earnest. Still though, Jungwoo shuts down those emotions before they can spring to life. 

“Do you like me? Is that why you ask?”

And because Jungwoo expects the answer, if perhaps not such bold honestly, he isn’t surprised when Taeil grimaces but nods. 

“Then no, Prince Taeil of Belenos, you really don’t want to know. Goodnight.”

Taeil remembers little else of the party that night. Recognizing a sign of dismissal, he leaves the empty, solemn temple, breath heaving by the time he returns to the lift, heart thudding as he pounds across the platform. Yuta, Taeyong, and Kun, oblivious to his dilemma, are now deeply into a round of drinking games. Jaehyun is currently cornered by the two government lackeys being lectured on the merits of cross-cultural exchange programs. Taeil doesn’t know how to help him there. Instead, he goes straight for the bar, finds an empty stool, and waits. 

A small Offborn man in server’s gear eyes him up shortly. 

“Alcohol or…?”

Taeil pretends to think about it. Then, he lifts his arm and lays it across the counter, watch space up. “A spin, please. General fabrication, or whatever you’ve got.”

The server seems hesitant, but Taeil does not remove his arm. A moment later he nods and disappears. When he returns he has a small plug-in and proceeds to line it up with the connector of Taeil’s arm. Taeil pointedly avoids eye contact. Public spins have only been legal for about fifty years, yet still the stigma remains. 

He breathes in deeply as the tingling begins, little shots of energy traveling into his nervous system, seeking the brain. One spin, or pulse, doesn’t hurt a thing but only blurs the line of reality. Two spins, enough for a full sexual experience, legal for public connection but not recommended. Three, well that’s what Taeil likes to set himself up with in a private hotel room. Four is pushing the limit of what the mind can handle. Five might have your line of addressed officially moved into an asylum. It seems that messing with the brain still has consequences for all their society’s modern medical efficiency. 

Within five minutes it has the effect Taeil wants. He moves about as if in a dream, though the scenes around him have not changed. The same people swirl around from one vista to another, only happier in Taeil’s own mind. Little colorful animals yap at their feet, bare wisps which make Taeil smile. A woman’s head morphs seamlessly into an apple, while beside her a man’s rear end turns into a peach. Taeil giggles. Time speeds on. He sees Yuta’s mouth moving, talking to him, but hears none of what he says. In his mind, Yuta is only praising him, and Taeyong is smiling, and Kun declares what a great friend he is, and then that vision too moves on. Vaguely, off in the distance, he hears other people talking. He was sitting down, but then he is dancing, reaching across for his partner’s hand only to find a kitten instead. The vision drains away like streaks of a watercolor painting. Jaehyun is standing there smiling at him, but then his face changes into a parrot. 

“Taeil? Are you alright?”

For once Taeil can actually hear what he’s saying. He also hears someone else, maybe Taeyong, laughing. “Ooh, he’s fine. Just took a spin, seems like.”

Jaehyun’s voice sounds concerned. Taeil doesn’t know why he sounds concerned. He tries to reach out, touch Jaehyun’s face and tell him he’s alright, but then parrot Jaehyun squawks at him, and Taeil cracks up into a round of giggles. 

The parrot leans over the bar and interrogates the waiter. “I’m sorry, what’s your name? Chenle? Can you tell me exactly what he took?”

The waiter, whose face now looks huge to Taeil, frowns. “You a friend? It’s confidential, you know.”

“Just _ tell _ me what he took.”

Chenle sighs. “Nothing big, man, chill. It’s just a single spin hookup. Fruits and animals mostly. Who knows what you look like to him right now.”

Taeil dances away, loving the ease of everything, loving the joy of _ not giving a shit _. Until someone’s face leers his way, and grabs him by the shoulders. 

“Jungwoo?” Taeil babbles excitedly.

“Guess again, friend,” says the parrot, who’s now shouting words at Yuta. Taeil giggles some more and then promptly faints right in the middle of the deck. Someone above him groans. Another someone coos like a dove. Before his eyes give out, across the platform a pineapple dances with a baboon. 

“You, you said your name was Kun, right?” the parrot is still squawking. “Well, put your damned drink down and help me get him up!”

  
  


Taeil only wakes up ten hours later in an unfamiliar bed, naked except for a bathrobe. His head is spinning in all directions while he shakes off thoughts of floating down rainbows. 

“Oh, you’re awake?” asks a voice.

“Uhhhhhh,” says Taeil groggily. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Taeil rubs his eyes, starting to make out the outline of Jaehyun’s face. 

“Where am I?”

Jaehyun frowns. “Well, thanks to your shitty friends I never did figure out where you were staying, so, welcome to my hotel.”

Taeil groans. His tongue feels heavy, his nose itches. “What happened?”

Jaehyun’s eyes light up. “What? You don’t remember?” And Taeil already knows this is going to be bad when Jaehyun suddenly spins him a tale of getting drunk off his feet, and them kissing, and then having wild sex for hours. 

Taeil’s hands cover his face, dragging on his cheeks like he wants to rip them off. But, but. “T-that, that didn’t happen,” he says, believing, praying it’s not true. 

“No shit, of course it didn’t happen,” says Jaehyun. “But I thought you might prefer that to me telling you how you took a spin, tripped over a porcupine, then proceeded to cry about cereal and bananas before you passed out and I took you home. When you got _ here _ you started begging me for another spin and when I didn’t give you that, you took your clothes off anyway and then cried about Jungwoo for an hour, and oh boy, aren’t you glad I got you of public before you did that. _ Prince _ Taeil, who I only met yesterday, you have got a lot of explaining to do.”

Finally, Taeil remembers.

“Shit.” 

  
  


Down the center of Oreison City rushes a great river. Icy in the north where it descends from a large mountain range, the waters are still frigid here. It’s length across and rushing. Like the city which is the metropolis of the universe, it never runs still, always alive, raging and restless. On a clear day it shines in a myriad of greens. Mostly it’s just black. 

The view from Taeil’s hotel where he moves to on his own the night after the party has a magnificent glimpse of the river, and the cityscape beyond. On other planets, industry is king, but here on Oreison, powered by the galaxy and those beyond, manufactured culture reigns supreme. They build skyscrapers thousands of floors high, great cathedrals devoted o the arts, museums and theaters, whole theme parks of every variety, clubs crafted entirely from precious rocks, dens for the gloriously depraved. A visitor might lose himself for days. Taeil has already lost a week. 

Though he’s tried to avoid the typical social encounters, Taeil is unable to hide from his friends for long. They show up at his suite on the fourth day full of complaints about Taeil’s abandonment but, typical to them, they bear no grudge for long. They simply roll with events as they happen with nary a thought. Taeil lets them in. They aren’t surprised to see Jaehyun resting against a counter, arms crossed with an amused expression. 

“You’re staying here too?” asks Taeyong, like they’ve known him forever. 

Jaehyun answers. “Down the hall.”

“Oh, neat. Hey, let’s say we all day a day trip to the Giant’s Peak.”

Taeil consents, but only because it seems unlikely they’ll run into Jungwoo two hours away on a mountain hike. 

Since the party, he hasn’t been able to get him out of his head. All the things he said, the things he didn’t say. Reconciling those feelings which had rushed at him so fast hasn’t been easy over the last few quiet days, and yet he’d needed that time to keep him sane. With Jaehyun coming by and taking him out to eat, and persuading him against spins at least for a little while, Taeil’s been feeling better. He doesn’t usually pass out from single spins, but every now and then the connection isn’t a good one. Some kinds of stimulation do hit wrong, and with all the strain on his mind, suffice it to say Taeil probably shouldn’t have done that then, and he’s entirely grateful to Jaehyun for saving him from further embarrassment. 

Unfortunately, all things do come around. It’s their second week on Oreison when, on an ‘educational’ tour of the world’s capital building, they run into Jungwoo again. 

They’d been having lunch with Jaehyun’s father before he excused himself for a meeting. The two government employees Taeil saw on the cruise through the Exotic Garden are in attendance being both annoyingly flattering and also deep wells of knowledge. 

“And this marble stair here was imported from the tenth moon of Aster in the Bell constellation nearly five hundred years ago—”

But Taeil isn’t looking at the stair, and now neither are the rest. Yuta gasps in surprise and Taeyong beams. Fortunately, Kun isn’t with them now otherwise Taeil would never be able to live. But even Jaehyun stares at a mesmerizing Jungwoo coming down the opposite balcony. He’s dressed all in white in a gown not unlike what he wore the other night, gold trinkets accentuating his ears and neck, bangles on his wrists. In the daylight, it sets off the golden tan of his skin which gleams and shimmers. His feet are sandaled, his chin is high. A man is wrapped around him, the two whispering happily in each other’s ears as they descend step after step. 

Taeil’s party meets Jungwoo in the center of the foyer. Jungle startles when he sees him. His recovery, however, only takes a few seconds, and something drops heavily in Taeil’s chest when he recognizes that smart facade take over and lead the way like it always does whenever Jungwoo addresses him. It’s dripping with falsity, the most charming of acts. 

“Prince Taeil, what a surprise.” Not to ignore the others, he quickly introduces himself to Jaehyun, then Taeyong, and finally, “Lord Yuta. Forgive me last week when I did not recognize you. But my! Do you all keep the most magnanimous company! May I introduce you to my friend? This is Mr. Seo, and don’t be fooled by the term ‘mister’. Johnny here is quite one of the most powerful gentlemen in Oreison politics under the age of forty.” Delivered with a wink, he thrusts his ‘friend’ forward to bow. 

Taeil counsels his expression to remain neutral, even as his heart starts to pound. He feels sick with unease. Johnny is handsome and tall, black-haired and impressed with a wonderfully crafted face and body. He’s dressed like a politician, black bodysuit fitted tightly around his torso, waist, and legs, a half-skirt fluttering down his hip, and crisp, shiny boots. The silver tassels at his waist mark him a representative of Oreison. 

Johnny finishes his bow and then stands up and his hand immediately fits itself around Jungwoo’s waist like it was made to go there. 

“Friends of Jungwoo’s? It saddens me that we haven’t had the privilege before. I am Johnny, as he said. Please ignore the mister, or any other address. Tedious things, titles like that.” Spoken as only one used to having authority can say. His gaze lingers on Taeil one moment longer than it does on the others. Taeil flushes to respond. 

“It’s Taeil, _ just Taeil _ , please,” he says smiling. He has a fleeting reminder of Jungwoo’s words a week ago telling him he’d need to wait a month. ‘ _ I’m afraid I’m booked for the time being _.’

Johnny, it seems is allowed to do more than _ look _. 

“Taeil, then. So delightful to meet you all, but Jungwoo and I were… ahh, heading out now. You know what?” He shoots a sudden, excited glance at Jungwoo. “Perhaps we can meet again later? Tomorrow night?”

Jungwoo looks alarmed and gives a frantic half-shake no, but Johnny ignores him. 

“There’s a riverboat party we’ve been invited to, and it’s always so dull—politicians and the like—you all would, I’m sure, make an excellent addition to the gathering!”

He brooks no argument, and since Taeil is determined to stay quiet and Yuta and Taeyong immediately cry in delight, Jungwoo is left standing there, silent and deadly, still smiling. They depart with an overly cordial goodbye from Johnny, mixed emotions from Jungwoo, and several too loud guffaws from Yuta when the two depart. 

Taeil feels ill, though he fancies he doesn’t look it. Awkwardly, and belying his thoughts, Jaehyun gives him an awkward pat on the back. 

  
  
  


Hours later, Jungwoo stares at the slope of Johnny’s back. In spite of his age, Johnny is one of the fittest, attractive men Jungwoo’s ever had sex with. And Johnny’s not afraid to call it that: sex. So many prior clients find in Jungwoo’s arms something to want to call love, but they’re usually deluded. What Jungwoo does with his sponsors is a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less. Jungwoo actually prefers the men like Johnny who remain wholly aware of this. It makes it easier when their time together comes to an end. Sometimes, even during it. For now at least, they have a few more weeks. 

Jungwoo’s glad of that. Johnny is easy to be around. He’s pragmatic but also kind, sexy but also helpful. He’s one of the few sponsors who know why Jungwoo does what he does. This isn’t the first time Jungwoo’s agreed to a long contract. Sometimes though, he’s just a little too helpful. 

“You should not have done that.” Jungwoo speaks softly as Johnny stands up from the bed. Jungwoo isn’t too grumpy he can’t appreciate Johnny’s firm butt and thighs. Because hours later, Johnny still knows what Jungwoo’s referring to. He turns around and smiles cheekily. 

“My apologies if I have offended a future _ lover _.” Then he pulls up his pants and Jungwoo sighs and lays back down. 

“Right,” he scoffs, stretching on their dirtied bed. 

Johnny searches for the rest of his clothes, speaking matter-of-factly. “So, this Taeil, this _ prince _ of yours, is really not a good friend?”

“We met once. It was awkward.”

Johnny smiles. “Do tell.”

“No,” says Jungwoo playfully. He rolls over and picks himself off the bed. Then, as if this is conclusive enough for Johnny, “He’s from Belenos.”

Both of Johnny’s eyebrows raise. After a long moment, he whistles. “A relative of the Grand Prince, I assume.”

“A grandson.”

“One of many, then,” Johnny supplies. “The old man has at least twenty.”

“I’m hardly surprised. A man as warmongering as that old geezer is surely lecherous as well.”

“Only four wives in total if I remember correctly. They did have a strange tendency to end up dead after a few years. The lucky ones were divorced. Wonder which one is the grandmother of your prince?”

“He’s not my prince,” says Jungwoo again, angrily. “And I don’t wonder, because I don’t really care. Anyway, since you’ve been so hospitable to invite them to a party of which they have absolutely no need to attend, please don’t leave me alone around them, especially him.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s halfway to being in love with me.”

“You know that?” Johnny laughs.

“I can usually tell. It makes things…”

“Awkward?”

Jungwoo tilts his head. “I was going to say annoying?” 

“That works too. You have a lot of strong emotions about this though, I was going to say.”

Jungwoo sighs, but he doesn’t have an answer. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected to run into Taeil ever again. And he really hadn’t expected Johnny making the thing more complicated. Taeil is… perplexing at best; at worst he could be problematic. Here is a man obviously sporting a bleeding heart crush, and a Belenisian prince, grandson of a man who has his hands directly in the conquest of Jungwoo’s home planet. Taeil is likely also a spin addict. He’d certainly gotten high near the end of that party, though he was at least entertaining more than being obnoxious, not that Jungwoo ever went near him again. 

Taeil… Jungwoo should not even be thinking so much about him right now. There’s no reason why he should. Taeil is mildly attractive, Jungwoo gives him that, but with no real character if he lets his friends walk all over him. Jungwoo is likely assuming too little about him. He doesn’t even _ know _ the man. But then again, perhaps that’s why after this second meeting he can’t let it go: the enigma of a man like Taeil is too great a temptation. And maybe Jungwoo really does want to know things. 

Lost on his thoughts like this, he misses Johnny walking around the bed until the man is standing right in front of him. Johnny takes Jungwoo’s face gently in his hands and kisses him. The ghost of his lips is soft, gentle, unlike their last time in bed. 

“You’re thinking too much again, Jungwoo.”

Jungwoo shrugs. Johnny’s hands drop to his waist and he laughs as he sways Jungwoo side to side until Jungwoo admits to a smile. 

“I know.”

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong, but I did have a reason.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, actually. Prince Taeil, aside, I thought you’d be more interested in the identity of his friend.”

“His friend? Who? Lord Yuta? Or wait, what was the other man’s name… Taeyong?” The former is heir to an exalted lordship on Belenos, which makes the connection between him and Taeil obvious. Taeyong’s family, on the other hand, were born and raised Oreison for at least ten generations.”

“Not them. I meant Jaehyun. He’s from Taranis.”

Jungwoo hasn’t a clue where this is going. “And?”

“His father is an ambassador. I had the pleasure of meeting him in a council session. Interesting fellow.”

Jungwoo pauses. There’s something here Johnny isn’t saying, something that should be important. 

“Taranis?” he muses. He knows the planet had counseled against continuing the war against Jungwoo’s people in the Crystal Galaxy, but that doesn’t necessarily make them a friend to his cause. Unless, if what Johnny is insinuating is true. “Then, this… ambassador…”

“And his son…”

“Father and son, then. They aren’t part of… but, they are, aren’t they?”

Johnny nods. “I didn’t invite them to a party to amuse a bunch of rich, royal school kids, Jungwoo. I invited them because you getting to know Jaehyun might just be an opportunity for you to continue, indeed expand, your search…”

Jungwoo lips his lips and forces his heart to quit panicking from all that potential alone. 

“You… thank you, Johnny.”

With that, the older gentleman walks toward the closet and pulls out a robe. He comes back and drapes it over Jungwoo’s shoulder, adjusting the fit, tightening the sash. He places another kiss right on the tip of Jungwoo’s nose. Then he winks. 

“Anyways, don’t worry about that… other thing. We’ll put on a show for him, hm?”

  
  
  
  


It seemed improbable, but the more Taeil thinks about it, and the more he observes, he seems Jungwoo—and his ‘sponsor’ of the month Johnny—are purposefully taunting him. 

Taeil hadn’t wanted to come, but the invitation was already set. With Yuta and Taeyong thrilled about yet another party, Kun joining for the novelty, and Jaehyun politely agreeing that he would come along, Taeil comes dressed unhappily in his family’s evening wear uniform that marks him as a ranking member of society. Even on Oreison—especially on Oreison—being a part of the first family of Belenos is quite the ticket to people’s admiration. This just happens to be a party where people will recognize his name. And at first, he barely has a chance to realize what is happening because of the swarms of guests, mostly middle-aged. 

“Oh my, so you are Moon Taeil! I met your dear grandfather two spells ago at the Summit Meeting for Galactic Advancement. You know, you look nothing like him… perhaps you take after your father instead?”

“Oh what an honor to meet you. I hear you’ve been in school at the Academy. My daughter went through there with one of your brothers, oh let me see, which was it? I can’t remember. He was a bit taller than you though.”

“Have you visited your grandfather recently? You know, back in my day, the children always followed in their parents' and grandparents’ footsteps. Which have you decided to do, politics or the military?”

Personage after dignitary after politician after lord, once they begin they never stop. None of them know him, they barely remember his first name. They only recognize his family and maybe his face which has been published in numerous family portraits usually alongside articles about the family’s political prowess and stunningly good ideas about how to win the war. Nobody asks his actual opinion on that, however, for which he is grateful. 

Taeyong and Yuta mainly hang back and snicker at his misfortune. Kun is doing his usual thing drinking by himself and flirting around. Jaehyun is practically invisible to all these people care. He stands off to the side looking vaguely amused but rather helpless to stop the thrust of people who just want to say to their friends later that they met a Belenisian prince. It doesn’t matter which one, _ any _prince will do. 

But throughout it all, whenever Taeil gets a moment, whenever he turns his head just the slightest, he sees Jungwoo, Johnny by his side. 

Jungwoo looks exquisite tonight. His hair is a fair shade of silvery blue standing vibrant from the reflection of the riverboat lights. He’s shirtless but wearing a long shiny skirt several shades darker than his hair. It clings to his waist and falls to his ankles in various overlapping folds. Around his throat is a ribbon necklace from which dangles a gorgeous pearlescent gem. Glass beads fall from his right ear piercing. The matching set piece dangles from his right nipple. Johnny adorns his entire left side like it was left bare especially to accommodate him. This image alone is enough to haunt Taeil, but worse is that they seem to always be watching him, Jungwoo looking entertained, Johnny looking possessive. 

Taeil wants them to go away. He turns his shoulder as someone else comes up to accost him, but by the time he’s waved this person away, Jungwoo and Johnny have moved into his viewpoint again. Taeil accepts a drink of something sparkling and tries to talk to Jaehyun. Suddenly, they’re a few steps behind Jaehyun. 

He doesn’t get it. Here he is, having no desire to attend but forced too anyway because of... Johnny, for whatever reason, yet no matter where he turns they are somehow right there, almost forcing themselves upon him. All without actually looking at Taeil, or talking to him. The two remain in their own little world, all over each other but well out of Taeil’s reach. 

Isn’t the riverboat big enough this shouldn’t be happening? 

“You look upset,” says Jaehyun after half an hour of despondent socializing. 

Taeil frowns and glances quickly sides. Jaehyun definitely follows the brief trail of his eyes. 

A moment later he says, “Ignore them,” with a measure of confidence Taeil cannot share. “You didn’t do anything wrong, so just ignore them.”

Taeil chokes back a laugh. “That’s exactly it though. I’ve done… nothing.”

It is possible of course that he’s making up everything, that Jungwoo is only around him by coincidence only, but he doesn’t really believe that. 

Jaehyun sighs. “Perhaps they don’t agree. Was… did anything happen that night, when you disappeared with him?”

“I didn’t disappear with Jungwoo,” Taeil whispers harshly, a tiny swelling of anger budding from deep within. Taeil has an abnormally even temper compared to his family, but that doesn’t mean he’s made only of wood. “And I didn’t say anything to upset him. I don’t know why he would be mad. In fact, he was the one who apologized to _ me _.” 

“Hmmm.”

Jaehyun hums like he knows there’s more. Taeil shakes his head. “Alright, I might have hinted that I liked him, but that’s it. He wasn’t interested. I’m moving on.”

“Are you thought?”

“Am I what? Moving on?”

Jaehyun nods.

Taeil grits his teeth and answers, “There’s nothing to move on from.” He had a crush, then _ he _ was crushed. End of story, right? 

So why doesn’t this feel like the end of it? If Jungwoo wanted to be mean to him then, he said his words and Taeil can accept that, eventually, maybe. He doesn’t need to be invited to riverboat parties and be succinctly reminded every other minute that Jungwoo is exquisitely beautiful and highly unavailable, whether he had time for Taeil or not. And with Johnny at his arm, there should be absolutely no need for this. 

He steals another quick glance and finds himself staring right at Johnny, who smirks at him like Taeil is nothing. 

It’s enough to make his skin crawl. As if the universe wasn’t already at his back reminding Taeil day after day that he’s nothing like his brothers, that he should aspire to be more like his grandfather, that he should have more opinions, that he needs to get out, show off his face and make a name for himself upholding the Moon family tradition, or whatever that means. 

Instead, he’s being taunted by a socialite prostitute and a representative Mr. Seo. Taeil’s pride can only handle so much. 

“He looks at me like I’m trying to steal him, Jaehyun. I’m not. I just… I want to be left alone.” 

Jaehyun sighs and throws an arm heavily over his shoulder. “Looks like somewhere, something was lost in translation.”

Taeil agrees. But the truth is, he’s trying not to be jealous. Jungwoo has nothing to do with him, and wants nothing to do with him, right? Taeil can learn to live with that. He’s been disappointed before and he lived; he would be fine from here on out. 

Except no matter what he does or where he moves, Jungwoo is still following him! 

Is the man so offended that Taeil voiced a concern over his well-being? Is he really that upset that Taeil hinted he likes him? Or was he just so embarrassed that now he’s lashing out? Any way Taeil looks at it, it makes no sense. And in the meantime, he’s stuck in the middle of a rushing river on the most elegantly decked enclosed riverboat eating the finest delicacies and suffering conversation from some of the most puffed up gentry in the galaxy… Oh, his grandfather will be so proud. 

He moves eventually to a quieter corner of the deck. From down on the river, the city looks monstrous. It sways high up into the clouds into should-be blackness except that, of course, Oreison never sleeps. Even past the highest loft apartments and business magnates’ offices, the sky shines as if by starlight. And some of the specks up there might even _ be _ stars. Most, Taeil knows, are satellites and stations. Almost as many people live on the surface live or work in the planet’s orbit. Theirs is surely a restless civilization. Taeil feels it acutely now and it is suffocating. 

Jaehyun finds him again not too long into Taeil’s musing. He sidles up with an apologetic gesture for being detained by some older woman who wanted to ask about his father’s loyalties. Taeil feels at least they can share in that_ . _ Nobody actually cares about them, only their affiliations. 

Before Jaehyun can say anything more, however, someone calls his name. 

“Mr. Jung? Jaehyun?” 

Both Jaehyun and Taeil turn and, once again, Taeil’s heart inflames furiously. Of course, it would be Jungwoo. 

Jaehyun blinks. “Uhm, yes?”

Jungwoo wanders towards them unsteadily. He is a few glasses to tipsy, or maybe only faking it, because by the time he reaches their corner he looks much more certain about why he’s here. Not that Taeil is certain at all. 

“Jung Jaehyun,” he says again. “We met yesterday.”

“Yes… we did.”

Jungwoo flutters his eyelashes. “Well then, here we are.” With a brief glance at Taeil, a look fused with indifference, he suddenly takes Jaehyun’s arm and loops his own through it. “Might we perhaps… speak for a moment, privately?” 

He tugs but Jaehyun doesn’t move. His eyes shoot to Taeil’s with complete shock and apology. A fuse finally trips in Taeil’s emotional bank. 

“Are you by any chance making off without your sponsor?”

Jungwoo’s hesitation lasts barely a second. His eyes narrow, though his smile remains. 

Taeil knows he’s sneering. It doesn’t happen often, but at this particular point in time, he’s so paranoid that Jungwoo is doing this to him on purpose that he can’t remember how he’s supposed to act. Why act so oblivious to Taeil and then steal away his own friend? 

“I’m sorry?” says Jungwoo playfully.

Taeil huffs. “Are you doing this intentionally?” 

Jungwoo’s smile drops. He unwraps himself from Jaehyun’s arm and finally, finally, turns to face Taeil dead on for the first time this evening. “Excuse me? Oh, I beg your pardon if I’m stealing your boyfriend. It’ll only take a minute, maybe ten, I promise~” 

Taeil turns bright red. “That’s… That’s not it. I mean…”

Jaehyun suddenly clears his throat. “Uhmm, mister… Jungwoo, I really don’t know what this is about, but I’d prefer not getting in between the two of you right now. If you’ll just excuse me.”

Jungwoo makes a startled face and grabs for his arm but Jaehyun is too fast. A second later he’s vanished around a pillar and the corner in which Jungwoo remains with Taeil is eerily quiet. 

Taeil watches Jaehyun go feeling something between relief and despair. He’s alone with Jungwoo. All alone with nothing to say, and no idea what he’s supposed to do now. Then Jungwoo spins on him with the most hideous scowl and says, “Moon Taeil, you’ve just ruined my- my- Ufgghh!” 

With this corner so deserted and somewhat darkened, Jungwoo casts still manages to cast a shadow over Taeil’s figure that makes him want to deflate and sink into the floor, maybe go right through to the hull of the boat and float away in the river beyond. 

Nobody, nobody _ ever _ yells at him. Oh sure, people make snide remarks to his face, insinuate everything he’s lacking in, but first and foremost Taeil is a prince and Jungwoo is the first person he’s ever met who doesn’t seem to _ care _. 

“I… I…” he stutters, barely maintaining his sense of self-control. “Would you please tell me what I’ve done wrong?”

Jungwoo scoffs. “What you’ve done wrong? Are you really asking me that- but of course, it’s not like you’d actually know anything about my life-”

“So tell me why you’re hounding me.” 

Jungwoo stops. “What?” he says, surprised. 

Taeil actually takes a step forward, crowding Jungwoo’s space. He speaks slowly. “Tell me why-”

“I heard you the first time!” squeaks Jungwoo. “And I’m not hounding you. Whatever makes you say that?” He has the grace to look ashamed, belying his words. 

“But you are, aren’t you?” says Taeil. “Look, the only reason I’m even here at this party is because your… your… well, I don’t know what he is, but because he insisted we come. I’m not here because of you. I don’t want to be here at all.”

“So?”

“So, ever since—!” Taeil fumes in frustration and bites back the rest of his words. He’s whining now, and even to his ears that grates on him. Does it make sense to accuse Jungwoo of trying to make him jealous? Whatever he’s been doing, it worked, and Taeil is left with nothing but an accusing tongue. “You know what, forget it. Go back to whatever you were doing. I’m sure Jaehyun hasn’t gone far. It has nothing to do with me.”

Jungwoo just continues to stare at him. His face runs the gauntlet between fury and frustration. He should be walking away, why isn’t he storming off? With his eyes lit up indignantly and his posture demanding and confrontational, he still manages to look stunning. He should be looming over Tail right now. He should be mad. Taeil himself is mad but when he looks at Jungwoo, all he sees is something… fragile. Something within Jungwoo slowly, ever so slowly breaking down. 

It’s not just his frame but the way he wavers. Perhaps it’s merely the rocking of the ship, but space between them lengthens without either taking a step away from the other. Jungwoo looks away out the window and he draws his arms up to cover his chest as if deliberating about something important. Then he sighs, and he’s the one who deflates where Taeil stars at him aghast.

“Jungwoo?” says Taeil, somewhat distrusting this mood swing. 

Jungwoo doesn’t answer; he just continues staring off into the night sky. The boat sways. From a distance, the din and clatter of the rest of the party guests waft over them. Someone even bellows out Johnny’s name like a friendly greeting, but Jungwoo doesn’t flinch. 

“Let’s go somewhere,” says Jungwoo at long last. 

“What?” 

“There’s another deck above this one. Come on.”

“Huh?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask why, but instead Taeil finds himself following the other man dutifully down the corridor. Jungwoo takes several turns and discovers a flight of stairs. Up here there are significantly fewer guests, and it’s more dim, as if this is the overflow deck, properly stocked and staffed with treats and drinks, only no one is using it. 

They only stop when Jungwoo locates a small enclave near the back of the boat shaped like a semi-circle and lined with booths. It’s not a completely private spot, but no one seems concerned with the two strangers walking by and sitting down, even if one of them is a celebrity. 

Jungwoo exhales slowly as he relaxes into the cushion. Jungwoo sits opposite; he is not so content. Before they can talk, an Offborn in a waiter’s uniform appears, smile professional and all too correct. 

“Gentlemen, can I get something for you? A cocktail, perhaps? Appetizer? A spin?”

Taeil’s arm twitches at the offer, that sweet temptation to lighten the move by literally relaxing his nerves, recodifying the brain to program sweeter thoughts.

“We’re good, thank you,” says Jungwoo sharply, speaking for both. 

The server walks away. 

Jungwoo is staring at him. It’s a cool, measured look as if he knows what Taeil was thinking. Taeil reciprocates the look and notices that Jungwoo’s armband is surprisingly gare. He wonders that he hadn’t noticed it before. By galactic law, Offborns are not allowed to wear the wristband which every privileged native uses to plug in and ingest information, among other things. 

Jungwoo looks darkly at his band though and Taeil flushes, wondering if Jungwoo suspects just how close he had been to asking for a spin to settle his mind. 

If he means to push it, however, he doesn’t act upon it. Instead, Jungwoo leans forward and asks, “Do you know why I do what I do, mister _ prince _?”

Taeil nods somewhat certainly. “You are Offborn. And… a tribute slave.”

“_ Was _ a tribute slave. I _ was _ a tribute slave since I was taken around… oh maybe five years old.”

“I know. I saw you when you were nine.”

That surprises Jungwoo. He sits back on the cushion with his eyebrows raised. “Did you?”

“You were in a play on Belenos. I was eight. I went there with my brothers.”

Jungwoo hums. “I remember that play. That was a long time ago. You really_ have _ been thinking about me for a long time.” There’s no accusation there. Jungwoo seems amused more than anything else. 

Still, Taeil hangs his head and admits, “Yes.”

Jungwoo smiles. “Doesn’t matter. Anyways you answered part of the question, but not really why, so I’ll lay it all out for you. I’m a whore. You’re aware of this. A high class whore and a socialite, as if this universe could even handle the anomaly. I perform when I’m asked to, acting, singing, modeling, fashion shows, parties, you name it. I take sponsors to support my career and most of the time we pretend it’s a fling with a time expiration stamp, with monetary benefits going my way and prestige going the other. The ideal trophy boyfriend, but of course, what I still am is a whore.”

The words stinging in Taeil’s ear, he lets him go on.

“What you don’t know is why. In particular, why I still am.” Jungwoo sits up again and shifts around. The skirt which had bunched up around his ankles shakes loose again. Taeil becomes bent on watching the colors of the fabric as they shine in the fractured light from outside.

“Twenty years ago my planet lost the battle for Galactic Independence. We were absorbed, along with the entire galaxy into your galaxy’s domain. Comparatively speaking, it wasn’t so bad as other planets. All the major cities were leveled, and the entire axis was shifted just enough to bring about major famine, frosts, and floods. But unlike other planets, ours wasn’t disintegrated into rubble. It remained, and it still remains…

“My parents weren’t even part of the resistance. They never fought in the war. They and tens of thousands of others hid in tunnels under the tallest mountain range and only emerged when it was over. For their troubles and their lack of resistance, they were immediately enslaved. I suppose you could say I was born under captivity. Me, and five other siblings, four brothers and a sister, all older than me. When I was seven, all of us were taken away. Two died before we could even be sold. Then I, my two remaining brothers, and my sister were sold as tribute slaves.

“You can likely guess at the rest of my story, half of it at the very least. I was one of the lucky ones, the luckiest. I got attached to a Belenesian playwright who raised me alongside his own son. Between the two of them, they taught me everything I know: how to act, how to dress, how to pretend I don’t come from the Crystal Galaxy, or at least like my background doesn’t matter. No one’s under any illusions that I’m not Offborn, and a slave, but I was fortunate. Very fortunate. By the time I was fifteen I had paid my own tribute debt and acquired freedom. Or, as much freedom as an Offborn can actually have. But it’s given me a unique opportunity not just to continue my own pathetic existence, but to strive for something more…

“Two years ago, after endless patience, making the right connections, the right inquiries, and enough money to fuel a small war all of its own, I found one of my brothers. He was in a mining camp on the Black Stone asteroid belt. I saved his life and brought him home. I’m still looking for my other two siblings.

“Mister prince, no other occupation can bring in the kind of money and relationships that I need to continue the search. Not for an Offborn like me. That’s why I sell myself. That’s why I have my ‘adopted’ brother acting as my handler. I bring in the money and the people I ingratiate, and we spend my hard-earned money toiling on the arms of those rich fuckers, diving past all the red tape seeking the fate of two measly slaves who were sold over a decade ago. So pardon me if I flirt and hover around anyone I see as useful, but I have way more on my plate than caring about what you like, or who like, even if that person is actually me.”

His monologue done, voice raised to a high, scratchy whisper, Jungwoo exhales and sinks back onto the cushioned seat. He crosses his arms and delivers a challenging glare, waiting for Taeil to respond. 

Only, he can’t. How exactly is a person like Taeil expected to respond to someone’s life story, especially one _ like that _ . He’s floored, flabbergasted, and also feeling incredibly dumb. Up till now, Taeil’s only life problems were passing his exams and dealing with the pressure of his family’s political expectations. His eldest brother is a prick, his father has a complex from marrying into such an exclusive lineage of planetary rulers, Taeil’s grandfather is the patriarch of patriarchs and thus inspires a lot of groveling. On the social side of things, he has three annoying friends, which is _ terrible _, and a mild addiction to euphoria-rendering nerve treatments which frequently hinder his ability to associate with real people in a real-world environment. 

What he doesn’t have is a legacy of slavery and loss. All his siblings are alive, and his career—once he chooses between one of a dozen possible trajectories—is all but guaranteed. His homeworld is one of the most privileged, affluent, and upwards moving planets in all the ten known and reachable galaxies. 

In fact, by this logic, Taeil sounds exactly like the kind of person Jungwoo would _ want _ to know _ . _

“Use me,” he squeaks, voice cracking from nervous.

“What?” Jungwoo squirms in his seat. 

“Use me,” Taeil repeats. “I can help you. I _ want _ to help you. I won’t even demand anything of you, but I have money and family, the kind of connections that can be useful.”

Jungwoo observes him carefully for a long moment. “You’re serious.”

“I am.”

Jungwoo scoffs, but then he leans forward and says under his breath. “If you mean it, then you have to be sure.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“I mean, that the channels I need pursued are dangerous, and a lot of times they’re also illegal. One wrong word from you and my life is forfeit—”

“I would never!” Taeil protests.

Jungwoo clicks his tongue. “You say that now.”

“But, I mean it.”

“Even if you do,” he says, and Taeil struggles with not insisting again, “were you to _ ever _ slip, or the wrong people find out, it wouldn’t matter how much you claim to like me.”

“Can you at least admit that I like you enough to try, and to keep you safe to the best of my abilities?” 

“You’re nineteen.”

“I’m quite capable.”

“You’re still in school.”

“I’m almost done.”

“And then you’ll do what? Specialize in intergalactic investigation?”

“I can do whatever I want. I’m a prince.” Taeil allows himself a small smile. Jungwoo actually returns it.

“Well, at least we’ve cleared up that matter. That brings us to something else.”

“What?”

“I have a special hatred in my heart for the Grand Prince of Belenos, _ your grandfather _. Can you live with that?”

“I’m not exactly fond of him either, but as long as you’re aware that I’m neither responsible for nor culpable in my grandfather’s schemes. He’s done a lot of reprehensible things during his time on the dais that I can’t and will not deny.”

“But you still gain from that.”

“Something that gives me an advantage were I to help you.”

“Huh. You’ve really thought this part through,” says Jungwoo, uncrossing his arms and sitting forward once more. In the space between them, Taeil swears he can feel an energy building, a kind of rapport which both scares and excites him. 

“One last thing,” says Jungwoo.

“Yes?”

Jungwoo scoots forward. Taeil tries not to flinch when one of Jungwoo’s hands skirts across his knee. 

“I think you want to help me for purely selfish reasons.”

Does he? “Maybe, I do?”

“You’ve already said it. You like me. Even knowing what I do, you like me.”

Jungwoo moves even closer. His bottom barely remains on the seat cushion, his weight shifted so far forward that their knees knock together. Taeil shivers as the hand on his knee drifts up his leg to his thigh. It might as yet be construed as an innocent, incidental movement. The expression on Jungwoo’s face, however…

His eyes have darkened, and his lashes flutter. Taeil holds his breath as his lips draw closer and closer. 

“I like you?” says Taeil shakily. 

“Mister prince, Taeil. I think you’re doing this because you hope one day I’ll come to like you back.”

Taeil’s heart thuds violently in his chest, refusing to stop. He gulps and stammers but doesn’t speak. His eyes are glued to Jungwoo’s, darting down to his lips and back up again. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” Jungwoo whispers slowly, “and you’re going to like it.” Taeil’s breath hitches as his heart skips another beat. “And afterwards you’re going to miss my lips and wish you had me back, but it’s just practice. Only practice. Because no matter how much you help me, or how much you like me, I can never be yours. Can you handle that?”

With a sinking feeling, a heartache already growing, Taeil guesses what his answer might be: no, most definitely no, not as he already suspects his heart is gone. He will fall in love with Jungwoo. If Taeil knows anything, he knows that...

“Yes.” he closes his eyes as Jungwoo’s breath warms his face.

“You’re sure?”

“I can handle it.”

He cannot. 

Then Jungwoo kisses him.

Their lips meet, closed and warm, soft and delicate, like the hand Jungwoo places upon Taeil’s jawbone, and strokes. 

It’s deadly silent. All ambiance fades away, too overpowered by the sound of Jungwoo’s breathing, by the thumping of Taeil’s chest. He tilts his head and redoubles his efforts, lips moving silkily against the other's. Jungwoo’s other hand reaches for his shoulder and then dances upwards until it finds Taeil’s neck. Jungwoo’s whole body follows.

Mere days ago Taeil could have never imagined this. He might have dreamt of it, but surely, he never expected it to really happen. To have Jungwoo in his lap, willing there, open-mouthed and softly moaning. His skin under Taeil’s hands is cold but it warms up easily. Taeil’s fingers dance across his back, pulling him close, tight, as their kiss becomes heated.

“Jungwoo,” he groans, letting him loose for one second. 

It’s a second too long.

Jungwoo pulls back abruptly and stands up from Taeil’s lap. Taeil lets him go, arms loosening and falling slack though every drive in his body begs him to hold on tight.

“There,” says Jungwoo. His chin raises high and adamant. “Tell me again you can handle it, and I’ll see you soon.”

Taeil takes a deep breath, and lies. “I can handle it.”

He cannot. 

  
  


Jungwoo marches away as quickly as he can without actually running. His skin tingles, his heart refuses to still. Knowing he’s out of Taeil’s sight finally, he practically trips down the stairs and onto the first floor land of the partiers. 

Nothing has changed. The same groups of socialites, politicians, officers, spouses, and miscellaneous guests—including four young men of upstanding birth—mingle amongst each other, never minding that Jungwoo has disappeared. 

He catches sight of Johnny in the corner and smiles. His sponsor beams back and waves and then turns to continue another conversation. He knows what Jungwoo’s been after, he just doesn’t know the turn it’s taken so far. Jungwoo levels his gaze, cools his heart, and starts meandering through the crowds to reach him. 

His handler gets to him first. 

Doyoung looks baffled. “Where did you go?” he hisses. “I thought you were going after Jaehyun, but he’s still down here. You _ know _ that his father trades in the underground freedom roads. That could be important—”

“I got sidetracked, okay,” says Jungwoo, shoving him away. “I can still talk to him later. Anyways, I found another potential source of information.”

“You mean Moon Taeil? You can’t be serious. Does he want to be your sponsor?”

“Something like that.”

The man snorts. “You’re still contracted to Johnny.”

“For a while. Besides, this is different.”

“Different, how?”

It’s different because Taeil likes him, really _ likes _ him. Enough to promise things willingly without personal reward, and maybe that should be a red flag and Jungwoo is walking into a trap, but he really believes Taeil is different. Taeil likes him, and maybe Jungwoo…

“Doyoung, have you done something you knew was a mistake. Like, even knowing in advance what the road will be like and you still go down it?”

His handler, his friend, his adopted brother, sighs. “Yes. I have. I did that the day I let you talk me into doing all this for you. Jungwoo, what exactly have you gotten yourself into now?”

“I don’t know, Doyoung. I really don’t know.”

Another week is about as long as Taeil manages to avoid his friends again. This time he doesn’t let even Jaehyun through his door more than once every couple of days. Sometimes he answers the long comm on his wristband whenever Yuta gets too annoying, and he comes up with a tale of being tired and just wanting to rest. It is vacation time after all. 

But mainly Taeil lays around and frets about what he’s gone and done, what he’s agreed to. He catches up on some holo-series he never got to watch at the Academy, and he orders in room service. He gets a massage every evening, and at night, he doesn’t really sleep. Even the spins he programs don’t get him all the way off, and he doesn’t come out of them as relaxed as he used to. He’s thinking about Jungwoo of course and how he’s supposed to help him, how he’s not supposed to be falling in love. 

_ “Tell me again you can handle it, and I’ll see you soon.” _

And soon evidently means today. 

After he woke up a hotel messenger came by to deliver a message. 

_ I’ll be there around 5pm to talk specs. -JW _

That was it, no other details, no other instructions. Taeil takes it to mean he should be up and dressed and not hungover. He takes the liberty of ordering a tray of snacks from the hotel kitchen to have in case Jungwoo is hungry. At worst he’ll just eat them himself if it gets too awkward. Around the time he’s due to arrive, Taeil paces the room at least ten times and stares out the window. He ignores a message from Kun asking him why he hasn’t been around lately, then shoots off a reply to Jaehyun asking if he wants to have breakfast tomorrow. 

Finally, there comes a knock on the door. 

Taeil opens it to reveal Jungwoo in the most casual looking outfit he’s ever seen on him. Jungwoo comes in without invitation, Taeil still blinking at the vision before him. 

“Hello. I’m assuming you got my message.” He spins around. “Or was this a surprise?”

He’s standing in the middle of Taeil’s room wearing a pair of dark brown pants, a soft white, long-sleeved shirt with a beige cape which he’s now whipping off and throwing at the foot of the bed. At Taeil’s lack of a response, he cocks one hip and says, “I’m sorry, were you expecting something more formal? I wasn’t sure what kind of you outfit you like seeing on me, so I went for comfortable. Is that okay?”

Taeil quickly nods. “It’s perfectly okay.” Actually, if Jungwoo prefers comfortable, then that’s what Taeil prefers too. He’s infinitely happy Jungwoo didn’t bother dressing up for him. His face is devoid of makeup, a pair of silver studs in each ear his only jewelry. 

Jungwoo swirls around and makes for the tall window on the other side of the room, climbing over the back of an armchair to see it. He hums at the view. Taeil can tell he isn’t impressed. He sees vistas like this every day after all, why should he be?

“Nice accommodations you’ve got here,” he says instead. 

Taeil clears his throat. “Uhm, yeah. Make yourself… at home?”

Jungwoo cranes his head around and grins. “At home? I suppose I could try.” He smirks and continues looking out the window, elbows propped on the back of the chair, chin resting in his palms. 

“How long have you been staying in this place? You’re not with your friends much, I’ve noticed.”

Taeil grimaces at that. “Since a few days after we came to the planet. And, yeah. How did you…?”

“Know all that? Know where you’re staying? Jaehyun told me.” He pauses. “I’ve seen him around. He says you’ve been reclusive.”

Taeil sighs and walks halfway toward the window. Instead of joining Jungwoo on one of the chairs though he stops and perches on the end of the bed, next to Jungwoo’s cape. His lips curl into half of a sneer. 

“This is my vacation too. I don’t like being so active, like them. I want to rest every now and then. Do you have a house in the city?”

“A place of my own? Nah, I stay with my handler when I don’t have any schedules. All my money goes to one purpose. I’m certainly not going to spend it on my own personal mansion in Oreison City.”

“What about your home?”

He scoffs. “What home? The Crystal Galaxy? I’ve lived on Belenos probably the longest but no offense, I kind of hate your homeworld. I still spend half of my time bouncing around between there and here, and every moon and station in between.” He sighs as if this is a distasteful subject and immediately changes the subject. “You don’t seem to get along with your friends.”

Taeil suffers only minor whiplash, but if Jungwoo dwelling on where he lives is an unpleasant topic, thinking about his friends is Taeil’s. “Do you get along with all of your friends?” he asks instead.

Jungwoo makes an amused sound. “What friends? I have so few, the ones I see I make sure I actually like. You met them a few weeks ago.”

“At- At that party?”

“Yes. Ten and Sicheng. They’re my friends, I suppose. Not that we get to see each other much on non-professional occasions.”

Taeil nods and then only realizes too late that Jungwoo isn’t looking at him. He’s still peering out the window like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. It also occurs to him that Jungwoo might just be avoiding him. 

“Oh, did you know your friend Yuta asked about Sicheng?”

“What?” says Taeil.

“Yeah, he wants to meet him, officially. Through the proper channels.” Jungwoo laughs, and it’s not entirely cruel but Yuta can be a bit of romantic when he puts his mind to it, more so than Taeil, so Taeil doesn’t put his chances too high on winning someone like Sicheng. At least he considers Yuta’s chances about the same as his own. He also changes the subject. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you so soon. Aren’t you still supposed to be with Johnny?”

“Johnny was called away for a few days to deal with something in his own district. So I guess I’m on my own for now.” He speaks so wistfully, naturally, like he’s not bothering to put on a show for Taeil. And that’s, that’s nice. Almost makes up for the fact Jungwoo isn’t really bothering to look him in the face. 

“Does he… know you’re here?”

Jungwoo laughs. “You mean here here, or just with you?” 

Taeil doesn’t respond and Jungwoo says, “Of course he knows. We’ve got a contract for another two weeks, and besides, you’re not my sponsor or anything, right?”

Taeil hums and remains silent. Jungwoo seems happy to talk enough for the both of them. 

“Johnny’s a good guy. He knows what I’m after and he helps me from time to time. He also knows exactly where the barriers of our relationship are, which is even better.” This time he looks over his shoulder as if confirming Taeil got the message right. Relationship. Barriers. Yes, Taeil knows what his limits are here today, and they’re even stricter than Johnny’s. 

“That’s good to know,” he says, shoving away that tinge of jealousy. 

“Yes, it is. Anyway, shall we get down to work?”

He crawls off the armchair and pulls out something from his pants pocket. Taeil is surprised to see an actual piece of paper, similar to the one that was delivered earlier. So few people use real paper these days, but if the information is confidential, it’s easier to lose and harder to trace. 

“This is all the information you should need,” he says, unfolding it and looking it over before handing it to Taeil. “My brother and sister’s names, birth dates, the last point of contact. A few hints I’ve managed to track down as to their possible whereabouts, except I’ve never gotten any leads.”

Taeil takes it in his hands and looks over the list shakily. The barest of details stick out to him first: Yerim and Jeno, current ages fifteen and sixteen respectively, if alive. 

“You said you found one of your brothers already?”

“Yes, Donghyuck. He’s safe now.”

“Where?”

Jungwoo grins. “He’s safe. I don’t need to tell you exactly where, do I?”

Taeil smiles and chides himself for the breach of privacy. 

“I’m sorry. I think I understand.”

And Jungwoo nods like this is the correct response. “It’s good you do. Now tell me what your plans are and we can stop meeting like this.”

Taeil buries his disappointment and affects a smile. He’d known what Jungwoo was going to ask. It’s unfortunate that he doesn’t have any solid answers yet, but Taeil does have the barest bones of a plan. He lays them out for Jungwoo, carefully, methodically. He still has another semester of school until his next break and then it’ll be the right moment to implement them. Jungwoo understands this won’t be an immediate fix and Taeil doesn’t know how he manages to live on day after day knowing nothing but that his siblings are missing, maybe not even alive. 

But Taeil can’t show his compassion for Jungwoo right now. Jungwoo won’t appreciate it and the feeling is too close to the one which is the catalyst for all of this aid: that Taeil really likes him, might be falling in love with him. Jungwoo doesn’t want to hear that. So Taeil tells him as clinically as he can and Jungwoo frowns and nods. And at the end Taeil doesn’t hold out his hand to shake on the agreement, but Jungwoo turns around and stares out the window with his hands on his hips and he sighs long and hard. 

Taeil allows himself a moment to admire Jungwoo in profile, memorizing his jawline, the slope of his cheeks, how his eyelashes flutter, belying the softness in his body which Jungwoo is evidently not used to showing. 

“On Belenos, then.” 

“On Belenos,” Taeil agrees. Six months hence. 

Jungwoo closes his eyes as if in pain, or maybe he’s just that tired or worrying all the damned time. It’s a small moment of vulnerability that Taeil doesn’t dare to comment on. 

“Do… you need anything else in the meantime?” he asks. 

And just like that, Jungwoo’s eyes pop open and he turns around and smiles. 

“No. Do you?”

Taeil stares back. “I don’t think so?”

He has everything he needs, everything Jungwoo knows for Taeil to start his search when the time is apt. What else could Jungwoo mean?

But then Jungwoo is stalking close to the end of the bed. At first, he thinks it’s just to retrieve Jungwoo’s cape which is partially underneath Taeil’s thigh, but Jungwoo doesn’t even look at it. 

“You’ve been such a good boy today, and so respectful,” he says softly, now mostly leaning over Taeil until Taeil is forced to lean back. 

He gulps. There’s a piercing stare in Jungwoo’s eyes but also a hint of merriment. Perhaps a joke. Like Jungwoo finds his reaction funny. 

“I don’t know. Guys like you do like rewards though, isn’t that so?” He places a hand on Taeil’s thigh. Immediately Taeil seizes up, reactions set to ‘freeze!’ as he contemplates just what Jungwoo is trying to say. 

“I… I don’t need. I’m not your sponsor though?”

“So?” 

For a good five seconds Taeil really does think about it, what Jungwoo is offering. His fingers are hot on Taeil’s thigh, each of them with a deliberate touch that radiate throughout Taeil’s body. Taeil swallows heavily, brings his left hand up to Jungwoo’s and… gently pries it off. 

“I think, perhaps we should stick to our original arrangement?”

Jungwoo looks at him thickly. There’s no disappointment there, a sign that Taeil was right. Jungwoo isn’t offering because he wants to, but only because he thinks Taeil might want to. There’s rejection in that, but Taeil refuses to unpack it. He’s not going to be like those other guys. If he gets zero reward out of this, then that’s okay too. 

He really does like Jungwoo enough to deny himself. 

“Oh. Okay, then.” Jungwoo stands up. His smile broadens, more business-like, and he shakes his hair which Taeil still loves seeing down and unstyled, beautiful in its simplicity. 

But then Jungwoo’s gaze dips downward again, this time the arm which had plucked his hand away. Taeil glances at the armband around his wrist, his token of Federation citizenship without which he would be lost, unable to communicate, impossible to take a spin. 

“Actually,” says Jungwoo, softer this time. “Perhaps there is something you could do for me…”

“What do you need.”

“That,” he says, pointing at the band, specifically the function that brings up the holo-screen for long communication. “If I gave you a number… could you, call it for me?”

Taeil doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

Before half a minute has gone by, Jungwoo is laying across the bed with Taeil’s wrist cradled in front of him, a smile lighting up his face as a boy’s smiling image extends from the armband, floating in midair. 

“Jungwoo? Is that you?” 

Jungwoo’s laugh is so honest and so so beautiful, Taeil almost melts off the bed right then and there. “Of course it is, Hyuck. Who else would it be?”

“Well, _ brother _ , I don’t know. You call _ so _ infrequently.” He pauses, petulance momentarily abated, and his eyes scan the room though he can’t see Taeil from this angle. “Where are you calling from. Is it safe?”

Jungwoo smiles again. Taeil is so so very in love. “Yes, it’s safe. I’m safe.” 

Taeil stares at the flickering overhead light, eyes dazed, partially from the blinding luminescence, partially from having been spun up just six hours ago. It’s ‘spring’ vacation at the Academy, a tribute to some ancient custom that’s still observed planetside but of course, there’s nothing springlike about the stale atmosphere of a pseudo-military base whose primary purpose is educating young somebodies into the elite of the elite. 

Elsewhere in the dorm, he can hear Yuta talking on the phone. He, like so many others, is busy making plans on how to occupy his free time. Typically Taeil would be right alongside them. 

Not this time though. Taeil is only biding the hours before he can take a ship to the surface, and not to go home. In the meantime, the minutes keep ticking on. Taeil doesn’t get out of bed, he doesn’t feel like he physically can. There’s a fear about what he’s about to do that’s paralyzing, even if it won’t happen yet. 

The door to the outer room opens and closes. He hears Yuta’s greeting, then a muffled exchange of dialogue. A moment later that someone walks into the room where Taeil is on his way to the bathroom. The boy stops only briefly, and bows. 

“Good morning, Taeil.” 

Taeil blinks at him. “Hi, Mark.”

Then he continues on. No comment on Taeil’s semi-comatose state, no chitchat. The _ servir _ are like that. It suddenly pains Taeil that he doesn’t really know why. The _ servir _are a nameless race conquered centuries and centuries ago. They’re built a little smaller than humans, people would say their intelligence is lacking. The Federation considers them sub-human. From what Taeil knows about Yuta’s favorite servant is that Mark doesn’t seem to be missing anything in his brain. He is quiet, observant, and very, very attentive. But he’s sharp when Yuta wants him to be, and sometimes they will banter. 

Mark doesn’t do that with anyone else though. Whether it’s natural biology or centuries of training, the _ servir _are fiercely loyal to their masters. Yuta was raised with Mark by his side. Perhaps that loyalty is what scares the Federation, why they’re banned from the capital planet. If they’re loyal to only one person, could they be dangerous, if pitted against another at the whims of their masters?

While Mark piddles around in the bathroom, no doubt looking for something Yuta lost, Taeil finds himself thinking more about him. Also more about Jungwoo. The _ servir _ aren’t human, but maybe they were once a long long time ago, in the dark ages of the space race a millenia ago, one line of species verging off into something else. But the Offborn _ are _ human. Separated culturally, geographically from one galaxy to another, it’s only a war initiated by the Federation which gives them their name, which strips them of whatever designation they’d had before. Like the _ servir. _

And before a few months ago, Taeil had never truly considered how either of these peoples were treated. 

In just a little while, he’ll be meeting Jungwoo who’s playing the part of a wealthy socialite Taeil last saw six months ago in the confines of his hotel room in Oreison, here now for the express purpose of visiting the grand planet of Belenos. 

Taeil snorts at himself. 

Mark walks by. They nod to each other and for half a second Taeil considered asking him something… and then he doesn’t. 

Who is he even kidding? Mark is not Jungwoo, and Jungwoo is not Taeil. Socially, economically, politically, and just by virtue of their temperaments alone, they could never be friends. Jungwoo won’t even like Taeil. He’s on his own appointed rescue mission to save his brother and sister, with Taeil at the helm, and if this were a story this makes Taeil sound like a goddamn hero. Self-sacrificing hero, Prince Taeil of the Grand Plan. 

But he’s not a hero. He’s a fool in love using the only thing in life he didn’t earn—his title—to win over a single Offborn to his side, maybe. 

And if he fucks that up then Jungwoo will never see him again, he’ll probably leave hating him forever, and two lost siblings will remain lost forever. Does Taeil even care about them? He does but only because Jungwoo does. So many fates hanging in the balance of his one, single plan and it doesn’t feel like any of that is going to work. 

Because right now Taeil is a mess. His head aches, his body aches. His schoolmates in the other room have been talking behind his back about their screw-up friend lying on his bed just talking to a blinking light. Mark will have confirmed that if only Yuta asked.

“Fuck, I feel like crap.”

He rubs his eyelids until they water, sniffs at the odors on his body, and decides he needs to bathe. If only he could prepare to meet Jungwoo as the suave prince he pretends to be without doping his brain. Anxiety courses through his veins, only partially diluted. Hopefully, it will be enough to get him through the next few days. 

Several hours later, he checks himself out in the mirror, school uniform removed in favor of his family colors. He nods. 

“Good enough,” he says to his reflection. 

Taeyong stands in the doorway watching him. “Good enough for what?” He looks extremely judgmental right now. “I heard you were ditching us this week and going your own way but why do you have that look about you that normal dudes have when they’re going on a date?”

Taeil coughs and doesn’t answer. Apparently, that’s all it takes. 

“Wait, you _ are _ meeting someone.” Taeyong whistles. “Fancy that.”

“Why, what’s wrong with that?” Taeil avoids his gaze and re-cuffs his sleeves instead. Out of the corner of his eye he can still his friend. 

Taeyong grins and puts his arm against the wall to support himself. His smile is slanted, hair out of sorts, casual as he could be but with an aura he usually reserves for serious conversations as he says, “Taeil, you’re not exactly a people person.”

“I’m not?”

“Your pretend innocence on this topic is stunningly bad,” Taeyong deadpans. Then, with a sigh, he continues. “No, you’re not a people person. In fact, I sometimes wonder if you’re even a ‘friend’ person, and if you don’t more or less hang around us because you feel like you’re supposed to. Hey, I take no offense. Don’t mind my feelings. Yuta’s too preoccupied to care and you know Kun has no feels to begin with, so see, you’re perfect for us. On the other hand, I have a feeling I know who you’re going down there to meet and all I can say is… tsk tsk, Taeil. Have fun with the heartache and come find us when you’re done.”

Taeil stares at him. “That was… strangely heartwarming, thanks.”

“What friends are for. P.S. Your eyes still look a little bloodshot. Maybe lay off the triple spins while you’re out there, yeah?”

Taeil actually hugs him goodbye. 

  
  


The first hitch Taeil isn’t expecting happens right the next day. 

He’s due to meet Jungwoo in the evening at the Grand Belenos Resort, which is _ the _ finest, most upstanding pavilion in all the planet probably, excepting private residences. Everyone who is anyone stays here when passing through the city and Jungwoo, it seems, is not to be excluded from this. Taeil checks and rechecks his dress clothes, every button, every cuff, messing with his hair every two seconds and checking the mirror like the lovestruck schoolboy he is.

He arrives ten hours early, introduces himself to the concierge and is seated immediately in the cafe adjacent the lobby with the most ingratiating train of servants to tend to his needs. For a while, he sips tea and snacks on pastries. Finally, he orders a real meal. As people buzz around him—the Prince of Belenos! Wait, which one?—he tunes them out. Voices chime from other parts of the lobby, none grab his attention. Not even the first high tingle of laughter from a young female close at hand manages to turn his head. Until he hears the responding echo of a male voice which has haunted his dreams for months and perhaps years.

Jungwoo strides across the rich marbled floor of the hotel entryway, a host of staff following with a veritable mountain of luggage. He’s dressed simply in white silk pants and a cascading navy blue coat run through with silver embroidery, and he looks _ incredible. _ He wears little makeup and emerald earrings, hair bright and blonde, coiffed in the front as it reflects the light of the day. 

Everything about the way he moves screams natural beauty, but Taeil also remembers how he was in his room that day. Devoid of even those dazzling expressions, his performance face finally at rest, draped over Taeil’s bed which his hand on Taeil’s arm, a genuine smile as he talked to his brother. 

Today, knowing how peaceful and content Jungwoo can really be, it sets his emotions on a whirlwind, like something is lost in Jungwoo’s performance which only Taeil knows. There’s a sadness there, but the traitorous beat in Taeil’s heart is only happy to see him once again. 

And then he looks at his companions.

There’s a woman on Jungwoo’s arm. Petite and gorgeous with long braided hair and a white billowy gown, the sight of Jungwoo’s smile directed at her is enough to send Taeil’s melted heart right through his ribcage and tumbling to the floor. 

And on Jungwoo’s other side, an equally exquisite man with the millionaire good looks even Taeil wouldn’t claim for himself. The man towers over Taeil. On par with Jungwoo’s level, the worst of Taeil’s self-esteem plummets when he considers meeting those two. 

“Excuse me, sir? Prince Taeil?” Like the buzzing of an errant fly, the youngest bellhop of the Grand Belenos Resort flits uselessly at Taeil’s elbow. “The, err, gentleman you’ve been waiting for has arrived.”

Taeil spares half a second to glare at the boy politely indicating Jungwoo’s stride across the floor. As if anyone could miss that entrance. Taeil glances at his nametag which spells Renjun, and makes a very princely note to complain to someone higher up about this uselessly late notification. 

But then, because Jungwoo has also noticed him, he backs down and stutters a terse, “Thank you.”

Unflustered as always, Jungwoo marches his party right up to Taeil. His smile is unchanged from the way he’d been speaking to the woman. He approaches Taeil like they’re merely longtime friends. 

“Taeil! You’re here! I fancied, man of your class, you wouldn’t be on time or even early but fashionably late. Taeil, this is Sooyoung. You probably know her mother. She’s the First General of the Greater Red Nebula, and surrounding sectors. Don’t let that intimidate you though, Sooyoung here has absolutely no mind for military… things. Just like me.”

Then he hugs Taeil as though he’d been introducing a girlfriend to a best friend. Body on autopilot, Taeil hugs him back but he’s infinitely aware of the other tower staring down at him, no doubt judging his appearance. 

Remembering that he probably outranks just about anyone here though, Taeil stands upright and clears his throat, staring between Jungwoo and the other man. 

“Oh, and this is Yukhei. Wong Yukhei, Captain Wong Yukhei, also of the Nebula fleet.” 

Jungwoo plays with his name like it’s a source of great joy to introduce such a distinguished military commander, as if that fleet hadn’t been a major component in the siege of the Crystal Galaxy. 

Now that Taeil looks away from Yukhei’s face, he recognizes the uniform. Yukhei must also recognize his. He smiles and bows his head so briefly, Taeil takes it for mocking. 

“An honor to meet you all,” he says gruffly. “I am Moon Taeil.”

“And in case you two don’t obviously know, that’s Moon Taeil of the First Family of Belenos,” Jungwoo supplies. 

Taeil allows himself a brief smile. 

Jungwoo continues to beam. There’s a pause where he doesn’t say anything, but his eyes shift almost imperceptibly between his two sponsors, begging Taeil not to say anything that will make this more awkward than it already is. 

Taeil picks up the mantle quickly and turns to the woman. “Ms. Sooyoung. Your mother is General Park, of course, I’ve heard of her before.”

She smiles delightfully and holds out her hand. If anything seems amiss about this meeting she is either too naive to pick up on it or else impeccably trained not to mention it. Going by her pedigree, Taeil suspects it’s the latter. It’s not every day one is introduced to a prince of Belenos by an escort, and an Offborn at that. 

“Call me Sooyoung, please. May we call you Taeil, or do you go by anything else? I mean… your grandfather is…” She turns to Jungwoo and her eyes light up, “Wow Jungwoo, you certainly do have friends in high places. Look at all these people just popping up around you. A captain here, a prince there… probably a few princesses around the next corner…”

Jungwoo squeezes her shoulder and laughs. “That can’t be jealousu, truly? Not when we all know you are the most beautiful princess here.”

It’s clearly not jealousy, but an epic battle of flattery and response. Taeil feels very third-wheeled. In the intervening months since he last saw Jungwoo face to face, they had spoken to each other only once by long communication. He’d only said what, where, and when. There had, of course, been no discussion of Jungwoo being ‘obliged’ to Taeil in any way. 

He hadn’t asked how Jungwoo was going to get all the way to this part of the galaxy. Jungwoo’s methods are his own. And somewhere between Sooyoung and Captain Wong Yukhei, they must be it. 

Taeil glances at the captain to gauge his reaction to the exchange, only to find the man looking back toward the entryway where another small commotion is blocking the door. 

A man drawls, long and tired, as that same little bellhop Renjun drops a piece of his luggage. For some reason, Taeil isn’t surprised to see Ten. If anything, he’s relieved Jungwoo felt comfortable enough to bring a friend, one of his very few, though he doesn’t know how that came to be.

Moments later he gets the answer when Ten waves his hand dismissively to the bellhop, who is clearly caught in a situation larger than himself. Ten walks right into Yukhei’s embrace and looks pleasantly if unsurprisingly engaged to see Taeil. 

“Prince Taeil, in the flesh! How the wonders do work that we have the honor of seeing you again.”

Taeil clears his throat and greets him, trying to act natural. It seems to work. Unfortunately, all that he’s accomplished is that Jungwoo and Sooyoung are back to chatting away, continuing a conversation they evidently started a long time ago and none of it involves Taeil. 

Jungwoo pauses long enough to say, “Sorry, but we must check in. It’s been an exhausting trip. Catch you later, okay. This evening?” Then he leaves without waiting for an answer. Even Yukhei’s eyebrows raise at this.

Taeil bows and Ten says, “Goodbye.” As they turn to go, however, their entourage of luggage carriers at their feet, Taeil sees that Jungwoo’s arm is awfully intimate snuggled behind Sooyoung’s waist. Also that the back of her gown is almost see-through. 

By the time Jungwoo gets around to seeing Taeil again, it’s two hours past the time they’d agreed to meet. Jungwoo had forgotten how long it takes to get settled in a new establishment, plus there are Sooyoung’s things to unpack and fawn over while he plays the part of the devoted lower. He sighs and rubs a hand through his bangs, now blissfully washed of stylists’ gel. He’s dead exhausted and irritable. The meal he’d had earlier with Sooyoung didn’t settle well in his stomach, probably due to the Belenisian seasoning, a spice and fragrance which even when he was younger never sat well with his digestion.

Now alone in the bathroom, Jungwoo belches, splashes some water on his face, and declares himself ready enough. For the first time ever, Doyoung has not accompanied him. On one hand, he feels freer. On the other hand, a lot more lost. And that isn’t even referring to the vast hallways of the resort with its millions of corners, curves, dead ends, rooms, and plazas. The place is dripping with wealth, the likes of which only general’s daughters can afford. And captains. And princes, of course.

And somewhere in this maze of splendor, Taeil is here waiting. 

He shakes himself of the daze, of the haughtiness he affects every time they meet. It’s an old game, but one he’s tired of playing. He remembers a different time, in Taeil’s hotel room. When he’d blissfully, some might say stupidly, let his guard down, intentionally letting himself _ be himself _. 

But things like that are too dangerous to repeat. He hopes his little show earlier had been enough to remind Taeil that there is _ nothing _ between them. 

Jungwoo finds the right door. Then he knocks. His nerves dance about while he waits, he coughs a couple of times. But when the door finally opens to reveal Taeil’s handsome silhouette, Jungwoo is the picture of professionalism.

“Good evening, again. Shall we discuss?” he simpers as Taeil lets him through the door. 

He only knows the gist of Taeil’s plan. There are still so many logistics to work out, registries to sort, people to schmooze, an entire plan of action for Jungwoo to dive into and only Taeil’s family has enough political grease to pave the way. 

Taeil is visibly nervous. “I uhh, as I told you. It all depends on our trip tomorrow. You… you are available to come with me?”

“Well Ten is properly contracted so he won't be missing me much. And Sooyoung knows I am taking a day off, yes.”

That doesn’t seem to put Taeil at ease. 

“Alright,” he says, gulping once before diving into the rest. “We’ll be visiting my cousin Yangyang. His father, my late aunt’s husband, is fond of me for some reason.”

His uncle who is the Labor and Economic Divisions Master of Belenos, Jungwoo knows this much. No one else is more suited to the task of knowing just where a single tribute slave might have been placed. And since Jungwoo had been shipped to Belenos at a young age, it’s the first place he wants to search. Even Donghyuck had started here before being sold to the mining belt. 

Even Jungwoo has to hand it to him. This young, schoolboy prince has come prepared. In another setting, he might fit the profile of a genuine philanthropist, the likes of which Jung Jaehyun’s entire family imbue. On a prince of Belenos, the image is more amusing. For Jungwoo, it’s satisfying. 

“Okay,” says Jungwoo. “So tell me what I’m supposed to do tomorrow.”

Taeil clears his throat, suddenly businesslike. “Uhm. You’ll be with me. I can introduce you as my… friend.”

Jungwoo laughs. “A friend? Really? And where did we supposedly meet as friends? At your prestigious school?”

“I… was thinking of just saying we met on vacation in Oreison?”

Taeil’s cheeks are the prettiest shade of pink, the first sign of a flush. Jungwoo pities him, having to bear all his emotions on his face. Jungwoo has long since schooled himself of such expressions. 

“Why don’t we stick to something a _ little _ closer to the truth,” Jungwoo suggests. “After all, my face is fairly well known, especially on Belenos.”

Taeil meets his eyes for several seconds, and his cheeks turn even pinker. “You want to act like…”

“Who says we have to act that hard. Nobody’s going to ask directly anyway. That’s not how your lot is.”

The implication is there. Taeil understands it. He’s looking more and more uncomfortable at the idea of having Jungwoo hanging off his arm for a full day. Jungwoo casually strokes his arm now, not looking at the skin which immediately throws up goosebumps. Taeil silently looks away and draws his arm back to himself. 

Jungwoo settles back in his chair. 

“You haven’t asked me about her,” he says, just to get a reaction.

Taeil curiously has none. “Oh,” he says almost off-handedly. “Your current sponsor? She is very pretty.” 

Jungwoo smiles. “Yes, she is, isn’t she? Anyway, the voyage here is quite expensive. I was lucky to run into her since she happened to be returning this way.”

Taeil’s face is blank. “Her family is quite powerful. I suppose there was no way she could also help you in this… looking for…”

“Her? Oh, no. Wrong kinds of connections for one. And besides, who said every sponsor I take is just for business?”

Taeil lets that go too, which Jungwoo finds impressive. Instead, he plies Taeil for more details about tomorrow’s trip. When and where they’ll be leaving from, what he should be wearing, further details about the cover story Taeil’s been working on. 

Taeil’s uncle, Lord Yunho, is easily one of the most important men on the planet, and maybe the whole galaxy. He’s also a well known owner and distributor of tribute slaves. 

“He’s not a tyrant, though,” Taeil clarifies after Jungwoo suggests exactly that thing. “The slaves he has… they’re not mistreated. I’ve seen them often growing up. He’s.. he’s not exactly like that.”

“Kind words for a man who still keeps the modern equivalent of a harem,” scoffs Jungwoo, even as he breathes a small sigh of relief. There’s a small chance his siblings lived there once, if they ever came through this part of the world. Would it be too much to hope they’re still there? 

He looks up, realizing Taeil is no longer pretending to stare at the wood grains of his desk, but in Jungwoo’s general direction. 

“What?” asks Jungwoo.

Taeil clears his throat and looks down again.

“What?” Jungwoo asks again.

“Uh, nothing.”

“You were going to say something, so it can’t be nothing.”

Taeil allows himself a wan smile. “I… was going to ask something but, I think it’s probably inappropriate.”

“Ask it.”

“No…”

“Taeil, you already know what I do for a living, what exactly could be more inappropriate than that?

It takes a few moments for Taeil to put his thoughts into words, but when does he does it so hesitantly, voice lowered as if he truly fears offending. “I was… curious. You said you were sold to a playwright. From what I know about the tribute slave marker, that’s a rare occurrence.”

“I told you I was lucky.”

“Very lucky, then,” says Taeil. “Someone like you though… I mean, even playwrights buy slaves to… well..” he stops. “I mean, did that ever happen to you? Before you made the decision later to…” 

Taeil’s hesitancy is almost cute. “You mean was I bought for some other purpose than to run around backstage delivering scripts and acting out minor roles?”

Taeil nods, worry clouding his brow. Jungwoo has the sudden and scary urge to reach over and smooth it out. The best he can do, however, is say, “No, I befriended the playwright’s son before anything like that could happen to me. By the time my guardian got around to remembering he’d bought me, he could not in his mind separate me from his own child. Like I said, I was lucky. Doyoung was my… very first savior, I guess.” He smiles fondly. “Ironic, don’t you think, that he now plays such an ugly role in managing my life.”

“I didn’t see him come with you earlier.”

“No, I left him behind.”

“How come?”

Jungwoo sighs. “Because this trip is only half for business, and the other half for… _ this _business. I figured I could handle myself for a while.”

And because he can’t bear Doyoung’s warnings anymore about keeping a safe distance from Taeil. 

They talk no more about it though, Taeil delivering another nod of understanding, one chocked full of emotions which Jungwoo is in no position to soothe. He didn’t lie. He’d been dead lucky growing up the way he had, but it’s almost _ because _ of his childhood successes that he’s been able to make these later-in-life decisions. Decisions which have put him down the path he walks now. Most Offborns who sell their bodies do not live as glamorously as Jungwoo does.

“I suppose I should head back soon, seeing as how we’ve got a fun day ahead of us.” And potentially more if they make any progress tomorrow.

“Ah, yes. That’s probably a good idea,” Taeil agrees. He’s all back to business mode again. Jungwoo admits deep down that he might, just might, prefer the other Taeil. “I’ll see you in the morning. You can find your way back tonight?”

“Same as I made my way here.”

“Right, then. Uhm. Goodnight, Jungwoo. And, give my best to Ten?”

Jungwoo is mildly shocked. "I will. Thank you. Goodnight… Taeil.” 

  
  


There’s something completely magical about traveling with Jungwoo. Taeil knows it’s for show, but when he wakes up in the morning and dons his attire with the proud family crest, stretching his legs as he strides into the foyer of the hotel only to have Jungwoo standing there waiting for him, a smallish suitcase at his feet and the loveliest grin, Taeil feels like he could do this every day. 

He’s dressed in a one-piece pants suit, all blacks and gray, tight around the hips and legs and showing off every curve from his ass down to his calves where his feet disappear into a pair of leather boots. Over the top half of his body, he drapes an oversized black coat, this one accented with silver buttons and dark red tassels. They’re not in the exact shade of Taeil’s family colors, but still, something squeezes deep in the pit of Taeil’s heart as he appreciates the effort. For today only, they look like they could belong to each other. 

Jungwoo smiles and takes his arm when Taeil offers it. Then Taeil flips his head at the same young bellhop from the day before who quickly hauls both Taeil’s and Jungwoo’s luggage into his arms and follows them outside. From there it’s a short shuttle ride to the hotel’s private runway where a luxurious airship awaits them. Taeil nods to the pilot Xiaojun and his co-pilot Kunhang, loyal family retainers, and Jungwoo looks properly impressed at the quarters in the back of the ship.

“I suppose I should have known you would have such fine travel arrangements.”

“Only planetside,” says Taeil, unknowing if that’s really a compliment or not. 

“Ah, well of course. I suppose this ship isn’t a planet hopper.”

“Upper atmosphere only. I’m afraid only my… grandfather gets to fly in _ those _ ships.”

Jungwoo presses his lips together in distaste, but he drapes himself over the window to consider the view anyway. This part of Belenos is some of the most beautiful. Rolling hillsides, lush and green from the recent rainfalls. The resort is set not terribly far from some of the larger manors in the spaceport capital of the planet. Taeil’s home is barely two hours away. They won’t be going there. 

It’s beautiful though, his home. And a shame that Jungwoo will probably never get to see it. 

As one of the inflight stewards makes their rounds, Taeil lets himself imagine a different world. One where Jungwoo is just one of those friends he meets on Oreison. Someone he could consider a love interest, someone he could really court. He’d take him home to show off his childhood house. They’d swim in the pools and make sly comments about Taeil’s brothers. He could introduce him to his father, his mother. Jungwoo wouldn’t be an Offborn. He wouldn’t be a self-styled socialite prostitute. 

But then, he wouldn’t be Jungwoo at all…

Shaking his head, Taeil rids himself of those fantasies. Jungwoo is who he is, and Taeil can’t help falling for him. That’s the simple truth. It’s the reason he’s here right now, with an eyeful of the most intriguing, most gorgeous man he’s ever had the fortune (or misfortune) to meet. And yet Jungwoo isn’t actually his. He can look all he wants, but for the duration of this flight, there’s not even anything to pretend. Jungwoo doesn’t talk much, and Taeil takes a nap. 

They land four hours later at the estate of the Lord Yunho, Taeil’s uncle. 

Yangyang, his cousin, is there to greet them. He’s as handsome as ever. Always has been, even when he was a boy, that Taeil used to feel have a complex about it. Right now though, Yangyang is everything Taeil is not. Bright smile, loud and boisterous laugh. His hair is neon pink and permed. His lips are painted a lighter shade of pink. 

“Well, if it isn’t my dear and beloved cousin Moon Taeil.” 

In a perfect world, Taeil and Yangyang could have been best friends. They were as children, but family politics and a difference in schooling have taken them from each other. It’s been eight years since they last met. Yangyang was terribly surprised to receive Taeil’s self-invitation.

Still, Taeil is happy to see him. He grins. “Here we are.”

Yangyang gives him a stiff and courteous hug with a little too much affectation, but it’s all revealed when he spins around and gives Jungwoo a critical, almost caustic, eye. 

“I feel like I know you from somewhere,” he says.

Taeil instinctively opens his mouth to introduce him when Jungwoo beats his eyelashes, saying, “I would honestly hope so. We met a few years ago. On the Moon of Andor.”

Yangyang pauses to hum. Jungwoo continues. “At the Countess of Andor’s birthday party?”

And right now Taeil is squelching inside, but Jungwoo just casually brushes his fingers against Taeil’s arm, a movement not bound to be missed by Yangyang whose face suddenly dawns in remembrance. He looks at Jungwoo, at his arm, and again at Taeil. He looks almost impressed?

“You’re Jungwoo. I find myself mortified I didn’t recognize you sooner.” Then he bows deeply. “Welcome, please, to my _ humble _ home.” 

This is followed by Yangyang’s shrill laughter as he turns and leads them back to the shuttle which will take them to the estate. 

Jungwoo sticks by Taeil’s side and it turns out he was right. Nobody, not Yangyang or even the servants actually ask who he is and what he’s doing by Taeil’s side. They already know who Jungwoo is. They assume they know why he’s here with Taeil, it’s just impolite to say it, and this may be Taeil’s only chance to live this way. For this day only Jungwoo smiles at him and only him. He drapes himself around Taeil whenever others are around. Sometimes, if it’s just them wandering down a hallway, their shoulders brush together. 

Taeil feels every little look, every touch, careful to school his expression and not give anything away. Taeil mourns the time when their farce is completely done. 

But it takes half the day before Yunho wants to sit down with them. In the meantime, Yangyang gives them the grand tour and they share a luxurious lunch on a balcony overlooking the mountain pass through which Taeil knows most of his uncle’s slaves get a half-hour break before setting back to work. The country is beautiful out here, but the soil is hard. Farming requires a great effort, even with all the advanced tools and machinery. 

He catches Jungwoo’s face glancing that way too. Then he looks at Taeil. A shared hope passes between them. Maybe, maybe it won’t be that hard to find them. 

Yangyang interrupts the moment. “So you two met on Oreison?”

Taeil nods. 

“And how about your other friends? Are they too off jaunting around during the break?”

Yangyang has a private tutor. He’s never left to go to school and will never attend the Academy. Taeil envies him this life of ease, even as he knows he’d hate to be stuck at home year-round. 

“They are,” he says. “Not entirely sure where.”

“Ah, but don’t you normally travel together? Not this time, hmm?”

Yangyang flashes a wicked smile at Jungwoo who takes it in stride. Taeil is impressed his cousin even knows that much about his activities. But then Yangyang goes into extraordinary detail chronically everything Taeil’s brothers have done in recent years too, and Taeil guesses someone in his family either likes to gossip, or Yangyang really is just that bored. 

Yangyang sighs over their drinks, sunlight caressing his forehead. Taeil is starting to feel Jungwoo’s impatience. Jungwoo, who is always so professional and collected, the picture-perfect escort. His lips are pressed together tightly. His eyes have lost their glossy sheen. 

“Yangyang, I’d hate to be a bother but could you send someone to see if your father is ready to meet with us.”

Yangyang raises his eyebrows. He smirks curiously. Without saying anything, he directs a waiting servant off to check. 

They make polite chitchat for another half hour and then finally, finally: “Misters Taeil and Jungwoo. Lord Yunho will see you now.”

Taeil can practically feel Jungwoo’s anxiety. They walk side by side, but this time Jungwoo makes no pretense of holding onto Taeil’s arm. He’s not a professional right now, just a concerned brother. Taeil tries to catch his eye as they enter his uncle’s study, wants to comfort him, tell him it’s going to be alright. But Jungwoo isn’t looking at anything except the opening door, and in any case, Taeil doesn’t know if it’ll be alright. 

“Uncle,” he says, bowing briefly as an austere, dignified man stands up to greet them.

“Taeil, my favorite nephew.”

There’s bemusement in his voice, an old joke. It’s not exactly a lie, but Yunho made no secret of the fact he approved of the child Taeil over and above his spoiled older brothers. And that’s what makes this whole venture possible. 

“It’s good to see you,” says Taeil honestly. 

“And you. I see you’ve brought a friend with you.”

He’ll know of course from the servants who Jungwoo is. And what he does, if he didn’t know already.

“Uncle, this is Jungwoo.”

To his surprise, Yunho actually gets up and walks around his desk, extending a welcoming hand. Jungwoo shakes it, eyes rounder than normal, and then he bows.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Yunho.”

Yunho smiles, a tight expression. “No need for such formalities. Call me Yunho, or just uncle if you would like.”

Taeil watches Jungwoo waver with this information. One name is technically impolite, the other too familiar. Jungwoo opts for neither and just smiles in return. 

Yunho leans against his desk and crosses his arms, a bemused expression on his face. “Well, I would assume this is a vacation for you but then, it’s a little unusual. Not that I’m not delighted you are here, and I’m sure I speak for Yangyang too.”

Taeil hesitates a moment too long. 

Yunho speaks again. “Can I guess there’s something else I can help you with, then?”

And here it is, the moment Jungwoo’s been waiting for, that Taeil has been banking on.

“There is… something,” Taeil admits, before storing up his courage and diving right into the crux of the issue. “We’re looking for someone. A couple of someones actually.” 

Yunho glances at Jungwoo, and Taeil knows he can guess what’s coming. 

“Jungwoo’s brother and sister,” says Taeil. 

“Ahh,” says Yunho, a bland, neutral sound. “You were a tribute slave, of course?” It’s just a question, no judgment at all, and Jungwoo nods. 

“Yes. I… lost track of them years ago.”

“Jungwoo found one brother several years ago,” Taeil supplies. “Oreison was was the last known location for the other two.”

Yunho hums some more, rubbing his thumb and index finger across his chin as his eyes narrow seriously. “And I suppose you think I can help you look for them.”

“If you could, sir, please,” says Jungwoo, voice small. 

Yunho smiles at that. “Just ‘Yunho’, please.”

“Yun-ho.”

After a few more moments deliberating though, Yunho lowers his hands and rests them against his desk. “Well, I think it’s possible. I’ll need some more particulars though. Names, birthdate, origins, physical descriptions.”

“That I can provide,” says Jungwoo, jumping at the offer. His hands are trembling, chin set so taught Taeil worries for him. But then Yunho returns to sit at his desk and draws up his holoscreen, dictating to a program everything Jungwoo says about the missing boy and girl, right up to what they would have looked like at the time of disappearance. At the time Jungwoo himself was sold and taken away. 

And it hurts to hear the fear in his voice, coupled with the hope that they might actually be found. Because Taeil has siblings but he’s never loved them like Jungwoo loves his. He’s never worried that they might be lost, because he simply doesn’t care for them, nor do they for Taeil. And it occurs to him that for all the privilege he’s grown into, it’s Jungwoo who loves more. 

Twenty minutes later, Yunho, satisfied he has enough information, sends Jungwoo ahead with Yangyang and holds Taeil back. 

“Taeil, my boy,” he says sternly.

“Uncle?” Taeil’s voice wobbles. “It is possible, for you to find them, right?”

Yunho chuckles. “You care that much about them?”

“I… I don’t know.” That much at least is the truth. Taeil cares about Jungwoo, thus he wants what Jungwoo wants. But Yunho sees right through them.

“Stay a few days, if you can. Yangyang will enjoy the company. In the meantime, yes, I do believe it’s possible. And if I find them, I’ll even pay to have them set free and transported back.”

Taeil’s eyes light up. “Really?”

Yunho smirks. “You really are in love, aren’t you?” Taeil doesn’t answer that. “Well, I suppose you know what you’re doing. Men like Jungwoo, they aren’t like you and me at all. Some days, I even imagine that’s a good thing. Our family is harsh, too harsh. Even myself. Perhaps doing this for him will grant me a little grace, but Taeil, I would warn you… watch yourself, and guard your heart. There’s a whole reality out there you’ve never been exposed to, and for your sake, I hope you never are.”

Three days later, Taeil wakes up to a knock on his bedroom door, one of his uncle’s servants with an important missive: _ Noon, the arrivals dock, brother arriving. _

Taeil wakes up Jungwoo with a trembling heart. It’s beating so fast, so excited is he to share the news that Jungwoo will be reuniting with this brother within a few hours. Jungwoo sits up from the couch he’s been sleeping on. He reads the letter, and Taeil is impressed with his countenance, his stature as he sets down the paper like it’s nothing and stares blankly across the room. 

Taeil waits for the moment when he turns his gaze on him. 

Jungwoo smiles. “So this is it.”

“Yes.”

And then, so soft Taeil can almost not hear it. “_ Thank you _.” 

Taeil didn’t do anything, not really. It was all his uncle’s doing. But there’s no way to deny the bubbling inside his gut at Jungwoo’s words of gratitude. 

“Are you ready?”

“Ready? To see Jeno?”

Taeil nods.

Jungwoo laughs. “Actually, no. I’m fucking scared.”

“To see your brother?”

But Taeil knows what he means. From what his uncle told them, Jeno had been a slave of hard labor on the other side of the planet. Who knows what kind of life he’s lead, or the state he’ll be in when he arrives. Taeil may not know the boy, but he knows Jungwoo. If his siblings are anything like him, they’ll be tough on the outside, fragile elsewhere. 

Two hours later they’re standing on the dock, awaiting the incoming ship which will forever change Jungwoo’s life. 

They haven’t been able to locate Yeri’s exact whereabouts yet, but Yunho swears it won’t be long. In the meantime, they’ve already planned for Jungwoo to take his brother back to the playwright’s house with Doyoung meeting them there. A few weeks vacation, is what Jungwoo says. Which means, he’ll be leaving Taeil today. Maybe for a long time. Maybe forever. 

“So,” says Jungwoo. He is agitated, distracted, but still takes a second to look into Taeil’s face with the barest expression of wonder. 

“So?”

“I guess this is where we part.”

Taeil hums. He doesn’t trust his voice. 

Today is where their arrangement comes to an end, fake though it was, without the usual services rendered. 

“So, this is weird for me, but I’m just going to come out and say it.”

“Okay…” Taeil murmurs. 

The wind is picking up, scattering leaves across the dock. There are men in his uncle’s liveries all over the place. Yangyang stands not too distant chatting to the pilots who are to take Jungwoo and Jeno away. Everything about the scene bespeaks of imminent departure, and Taeil realizes he’s just not ready to let go. 

But there’s nothing he can do about that. Unless…

Jungwoo takes in a deep breath, lets it out even slower. He doesn’t look at Taeil but sets his eyesight off into the distance. “I mean, that this is probably the end for us. And usually, right now I would be accepting my sponsor’s payment.”

Taeil winces. 

Jungwoo goes on. “So the fact that this is pretty much reversed has me at a loss. You are the one who has given payment, yet I have given nothing.”

“Jungwoo… we agreed that you wouldn’t-”

“Oh. I know. Believe me, I know. I’m just saying. I would like to give you something. Yesterday, Sooyoung wired me some money owed. She booked a single flight back to the Greater Red Nebulae this morning. One of your uncle’s clerks found me in the evening to tell me.” 

Taeil visibly balks. “You… you want me to give me the money she gave you? I… Jungwoo, I don’t want her money. You… you’re the one who…” He can’t even finish that sentence. 

Jungwoo looks at him, distressed. “That’s not it! Calm down. You think I don’t know you enough by now?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, I already know you wouldn’t take that money. Also, that you’re way too noble to accept such a typical fee as I usually give. If I offered myself to you right now, you’d reject me flat out, am I right?” 

He is, but Taeil still can’t say it out loud. He nods instead. 

“Alright, so let’s face it. We both know that you’re a little obsessed with me. But have you any other ideas?”

“Ideas for what.”

Jungwoo sighs, growing more frustrated. “Of how to pay you back! Taeil, I hate… I hate feeling that I owe someone. And with you even more so because you’ve done nothing but give to me and all I’ve done is stomp all over that. You’ve found me my brother and I… I’m just going to leave.” 

There are actual tears in his eyes, Taeil is horrified to see. 

“I need to return _ something _ . Anything, please,” Jungwoo begs. _ Other than me _, he doesn’t have to say, “Taeil, tell me, what do you want?”

Time.

That’s all Taeil wants.

One year later they meet as promised. They have dinner under the veranda of a double sunet, on a planet halfway across the galaxy, but Taeil thinks Jungwoo looks more beautiful than the view. They catch up, and Jungwoo tells him about Yeri, who Yunho had been able to free after several months of efforts. He looks more relaxed than he was a year before, a carefree smile on his face, but with the usual hints of stress. Jungwoo’s still wearing the costume of his profession and Taeil doesn’t mention it at all. He’s not meeting as a sponsor. They’re meeting as friends. Once a year, as agreed. 

Two years later they meet at a ball. They bring their own dates but they drink together during the interludes. Then Jungwoo swirls some beautiful heiress around the floor while Taeil dances with a young man he’d met at school but doesn’t much like _ like that _. 

Three years later they meet up with Jaehyun, now free from an apprenticeship with his father but working in the same line of work. He and Jungwoo chat while Taeil watches onw ith halfway jealous eyes. But as the evening draws to a close he catches a smile from Jungwoo, a genuine smile, one of curiosity and fondness if not much else. 

Four years later, dinner again and this time Jungwoo has much to share. He’s in between clients, he says, foul-mouthed yet chipper about each of them, but as he speaks he plays with Taeil’s fingers across the table as a lover might do.

They don’t make it for their five-year date. It’s Taei’s fault as he’s recently taken up matters of governance on behalf of his father’s twelve states on Belenos. It’s grueling, tedious politics, and Taeil is reminded of his uncle’s warnings about the life his family leads. But still he does it, and when he and Jungwoo speak through the long comm to cancel their meet-up, Jungwoo does not seem put out at all. They make plans for a year in advance and Taeil’s heart breaks just a little more. 

At six and seven years, nothing especially happens. Taeil is getting older and Jungwoo as well, and if he’s decided to stop his profession he doesn’t say, even though he doesn’t technically need the money for his siblings anymore. But Taeil knows Jungwoo’s name is getting even more famous across even farther star systems. With muted affection, they greet and depart and Taeil has the distinct impression that Jungwoo finds his obligated ‘dates’ with Taeil to be an inconvenience of the highest matter.

He almost cancels on the eighth year. He’s deep into work as the Lead Council for Belenisian Trade in a far-spun galaxy, the neighbor to Jungwoo’s homeworld. It’s a throw-away job from his uncle that Taeil likes just a bit more than working for his father. He doesn’t count on Jungwoo actually being in the area. They meet, at Jungwoo’s insistence, at the residence of Jungwoo’s friend, a man Taeil recognizes from the very time he’d seen Jungwooi n the shadow of the stolen temple on Oreison where everything began. His name is Lu Han, and he is a tribute slave. Like Jungwoo they had entered the same line of work, though where Lu Han had long retired, Jungwoo still makes himself available to whoever calls or takes his fancy. Taeil sighs privately, glum and general inconsolable over the prospects of Jungwoo ever retiring and becoming his and his alone. 

“You know, I’m starting to like these dates, Taeil,” says Jungwoo at their ninth year reunion. He sips a fancy glass of wine which Taeil knows to be practically priceless, frowns, then pours it over the side of the balcony. It splatters low beneath them but Taeil doesn’t react. His heart is racing. His chin wobbles. 

“You… are?” He hopes to keep his cool.

“Yes, actually. It’s a good reset of my calendar. The universe is so scattered, so many time zones to remember when you’re asked to just pop about everywhere and anywhere. Shall we do something special next year? It’s the end of our ‘contract’ isn’t it? You said, ten years, ten dates. Well, we’ve just about fulfilled that.”

It’s not exactly what Taeil had asked for. For one thing, he’d never specified they should be ‘dates.’ He remembers Jungwoo’s pitiable voice begging to return a favor, a tone he’s never heard again, and him spitting out the first thing he could think of. 

_ Let’s meet up, every year. Just to... say hi. _

_ To say, hi? Every year? For how long? _

_ Ten… years? Is that… okay. _

_ It’s okay, quite fine, Taeil. Okay. Let’s do that, if you want. _

Taeil’s heart plummets remembering that conversation, remembering that day. He almost misses the gloom on Jungwoo’s face and he anticipates the end, one year from today. He doesn’t understand it though. 

“Shall we return to Oreison,” Jungwoo suggests. “There’s a new hotel opening there. I’m invited to the grand ceremony. I’ll sing. You can be my Plus One. Nothing special, just an afterparty and free accommodations for as long as I like.”

And there’s a promise in Jungwoo’s eyes that Taeil has rarely seen. One given with unease but just a little eagerness, a light to spark his hope. 

  
  
  


Taeil’s back hits the bed, a muted huff echoing out of his mouth before another closes in on his, searching and hungry, hands busy pulling at his clothes. A low moan rips from his lungs when Jungwoo suddenly pulls away. 

_ Mistake? _ he wonders. But then Jungwoo is grinning at him, stripping out of his shirt before lowering back down to tug at Taeil’s shirt too. One of his sleeves gets stuck around his shoulder. His belt refuses to unfasten easily. One sock stays on persistently even as Taeil fusses to get it off, over and against the body fighting above him. He flicks it away finally, growls and throws Jungwoo over on the bed. 

They lay motionless for a moment, two moments. Jungwoo’s eyes are on fire, eating up all of Taeil’s resolve not to do this, not to go this far. This wasn’t in the contract, wasn’t in any of Taeil’s plans for the evening. But it’s been ten years and the reunion earlier wasn’t what he thought it would be. Jungwoo doesn’t put him off, doesn’t ignore him. They don’t talk about it being the end, and the alcohol… Taeil shouldn’t have had so much alcohol. Enough to make him think this might only be a fantasy. He took too many spins and is imagining Jungwoo beneath him.

But then Jungwoo smirks, and his hand glides between Taeil’s legs, and no… this isn’t a fantasy. This is real. This is actually happening. Taeil keens at the velvety touch of Jungwoo’s fingers around his length. His body turns rigid, then melts into goo. He falls on top of Jungwoo who easily shoves him over again, until it’s Taeil back on his back and Jungwoo’s lips around his throat, down his chest, gliding over a nipple for far too short a time, lower and lower, just where Taeil wants him to be. 

His mind turns hazy. His brain shuts off. But his mouth, his stupid, stupid mouth falls open, and those fateful words…

“Jungwoo… Gods, Jungwoo… I think… I think… I’m in love with you…”

All at once it falls apart. 

Jungwoo stills. His body freeze, arms pushing him up. There’s shock on his face, and something else… something else maybe Taeil doesn’t want to see.

“What… did you say?”

Sweat pours instantly from Taeil’s pores. His heart tenses up, panic sinking in as he sings in his head every curse word in every language in all the known galaxies. 

Because Jungwoo didn’t ask for a confession. Jungwoo has a no-love clause in his contract. And this is a loose thing, but it isn’t Taeil’s place to cross that boundary and now he’s clearly gone and ruined it all.

“What, did you say?” Jungwoo asks again, voice high-pitched and throaty, and clearly alarmed. 

Taeil winces. Of all the places to be, of all the states of indecency, it has to be now with Jungwoo between his legs that he learns what true regret really is. 

“I said… shit.”

Tentatively, Jungwoo sits up. He runs a shaky hand through his hair, properly mussed, as his face goes red and Taeil sees the fire building up once more. He prepares himself for the barrage, for Jungwoo to leave his bed, for Jungwoo to leave his life for good. 

And then, none of that happens. Instead, Jungwoo's face turns passive. But his mouth falls agape as he says. “Ten years, Taeil. I gave you ten years as promised, because..." His words fail as his eyes begin to water. "...Damn you, you knew it. You knew I would fall in love with you, and now after all this time you only _ think _ you’re in love with me?"

Taeil, now getting over the shock, starts to smile. It's a tentative thing, gentle, hesitant. He's still painfully aware of where Jungwoo is. "Perhaps, I should rephrase that then?"

But Jungwoo just huffs. "You better," he says, looking off to the side of the room as if he needs a moment to gather his feelings back into some kind of order. Then he looks down, between Taeil's legs. "Maybe after I finish this though, huh?"

Taeil's head slams back, relief of so many kinds running through his brain. "That... that sounds like a plan." 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me comments! 
> 
> @shinealightrose


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